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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080256">The Devil in the Details</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilchasRuin/pseuds/SilchasRuin'>SilchasRuin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Devil Went Down To Hogwarts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Boy And His Basilisk, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But His Role Models Are (Almost) Universally Terrible, Cat and Mouse, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Harry Really Does Want To Be A Good Person, Horcrux Speaks To Harry, Humor, Mentor Severus Snape, More Accurately - Dog and Rat, No Bashing, Reluctant Mentor Snape, Sane Voldemort (Arguably), Slytherin Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:47:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilchasRuin/pseuds/SilchasRuin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, a renewed effort at recruiting more minions, and avoiding the suspiciously friendly pack of Aurors sent to defend Hogwarts, Harry's second school year is shaping up to be even more action-packed than his first. But with the help of his friends, Harry is quite sure that he'll be able to make it through another year relatively unscathed.</p><p>Oh, and then there's the impending dark resurrection of the high-pitched voice in his head, of course. But that can probably wait until his homework is done.</p><p>Sequel to The Devil You Know.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter &amp; Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Devil Went Down To Hogwarts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>743</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Where No Lair Has Gone Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>And so begins Harry's second year at Hogwarts! For new readers, you may wish to start with the first work in this series (The Devil You Know), or Harry's affably evil ambitions - and the somewhat less affable ambitions of his first ever friend, the enigmatically insane Marvolo - probably won't make a whole lot of sense.</p><p>Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this new installment as much as I enjoyed writing it!</p><p>A huge thanks to the amazing and talented Duinemerwen for her help with working out plotting and all of the fiddly details in the fic! Couldn't have done it without you :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry didn't know how long he sat there, his aunt's note clenched tightly in his palm, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.</p><p>In reality, probably no more than thirty seconds went by before Marvolo stirred inside his head, cleared his throat, and said, not at all apologetically: <i>I told you so.</i></p><p>Harry's throat felt horribly tight; his head felt funny, as if something hot and heavy was pushing the sides of his skull inward with relentless pressure. He wanted to think of something clever to say in response, something that would prove to both Marvolo and himself how very wrong he was, but his thoughts felt as if they were swimming through a thick bank of fog. "What are we going to do?" he whispered.</p><p>There was silence for a moment. <i>Are you going to lecture me if I suggest killing them?</i> Marvolo asked suspiciously.</p><p>Harry flinched, his nails digging even deeper into his palm. He turned to stare at the money still lying on the center of the bedspread. Five hundred pounds would surely be enough for him to buy food for a couple of months. And the grocers' was only a few streets down, so at least he could walk there rather than spending money to take the bus. And thanks to Aunt Petunia, he'd known how to cook since he was young, so-</p><p>
  <i>Potter. You know that we cannot stay here, don't you?</i>
</p><p><i>Of course we have to stay,</i> Harry thought indignantly. He knew the Dursleys were gone, and that Marvolo hated Muggle places, but what if sometime in the future his aunt and uncle realized their mistake and changed their minds? If he left, how would they know where to find him?</p><p><i>You don't even know if they've sold the house, Potter,</i> Marvolo said flatly. Harry froze. Surely they wouldn't have- <i>Where do you think they got the money to flee, anyways? And even if they didn't sell the house, how are you going to pay to keep the water going? The lights on?</i></p><p><i>I have money,</i> Harry thought desperately. <i>In my vault. The goblins can convert some of my gold to pounds, can't they?</i></p><p><i>Yes,</i> Marvolo said, surprisingly patiently, <i>but </i>how<i> are you going to pay?</i></p><p>How...? Bills came in the mail, didn't they? Uncle Vernon had a chequebook to pay them - which Harry didn't have; he didn't have a Muggle bank account, either, but perhaps he could put some money in an envelope and mail it back - if that was even how it worked-</p><p>And if he didn't pay the bills, what would happen? Would the police come? Would he be arrested, or thrown out, or forced to go to an orphanage, or-</p><p>A fresh wave of despair washed over him. Marvolo was right. He couldn't stay here.</p><p>Could he ask his friends for help? Blaise was on holiday, and Hermione too. Besides, he had no idea where they even lived. Draco had invited him to visit, but would he really be all right with Harry showing up on his doorstep and asking if he could put him up for a few months? Surely Harry had more pride and dignity than to impose on his friend like that. And then there would be Lucius Malfoy - Marvolo's ex-minion - to deal with as well, who was probably terrifying beyond all reason and evidently powerful, from the way Draco talked about him.</p><p>The answer came to him in a flash of sudden inspiration. <i>Dumbledore will know what to do,</i> he thought. Dumbledore was old, and wise, and had been nothing but nice to him since he'd showed up at Hogwarts. Surely the Headmaster would be able to help him.</p><p><i>That is...actually not a terrible idea, surprisingly,</i> Marvolo said grudgingly.</p><p><i>Really?!</i> Harry thought, astonished. Marvolo loathed Dumbledore with every fibre of his incorporeal being. If even he thought that it was a good idea to ask him for help, that had to mean that Harry's troubles were over. A feeling of immense relief surged through him at the thought. Dumbledore would fix everything. <i>I'll write him immediately,</i> he thought, leaping to his feet eagerly. Maybe the Headmaster would let him stay at Hogwarts over the summer?</p><p><i>Don't be melodramatic, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, rolling his eyes. <i>You're not going anywhere. He'll Memory Charm your precious Muggles and have them back here by teatime tomorrow. Happy?</i></p><p>Harry stopped dead in his tracks. <i>What?</i></p><p><i>It's not a difficult concept, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, clearly misinterpreting the sudden abyss that had opened up in the bottom of Harry's stomach. <i>A Memory Charm, as the name </i>may<i> perhaps have hinted, modifies or erases memories. Those Muggles will undoubtedly adore you by the time Dumbledore's through with them.</i></p><p>Harry's hands shook slightly as he pressed them against his mouth. <i>But...</i> He searched desperately for the right words. <i>But it wouldn't be real.</i></p><p><i>Of course it would,</i> Marvolo said impatiently. <i>Why are you whining so much about this, Potter? Even the Ministry Memory Charms Muggles all the time. It's disgustingly painless. Your precious Muggles can only be improved by the experience.</i></p><p>Harry stayed silent, trying to think of something else to say - to think of <i>anything</i> else to say, because if he thought about it too hard, he might start to understand that Aunt Petunia had been right to be afraid.</p><p>Not of him; never of him. But her fear of wizards, and of magic in general?</p><p>If even a kind, grandfatherly wizard like Albus Dumbledore wouldn't think twice about brainwashing a Muggle, what did that say about what might await his aunt at the hands of people like Lucius Malfoy, or Neville's casual defenestrator of an uncle?</p><p><i>Don't mind me, Potter,</i> Marvolo grumbled. <i>I've only been trapped inside your head for a decade; what's another year spent waiting for you to remember how your legs work?</i></p><p>"I can't stay," Harry whispered.</p><p>
  <i>Figured that out on your own, did you?</i>
</p><p><i>I need a place I can hide, Marvolo,</i> Harry thought. <i>Somewhere I can't be discovered by anyone. Somewhere safe that I can stay.</i></p><p>Marvolo snorted. <i>And I would like to have a working torso.</i></p><p><i>I'm serious, Marvolo.</i> Harry was very aware of the rapid, fluttering beats of his heart. <i>I-I'll owe you a favor. Anything.</i></p><p><i>Ah,</i> Marvolo said, his voice suddenly redolent with obviously evil anticipation. <i>That's different, then.</i></p><p><i>I mean, anything that doesn't involve me dying,</i> Harry thought quickly. <i>Or hurting anyone I care about.</i></p><p><i>Much less interesting,</i> Marvolo said disapprovingly.</p><p><i>But it could be</i> anything<i> else. Anything at all. I swear.</i></p><p><i>Anything,</i> Marvolo repeated. <i>Almost anything, I suppose. That does have...possibilities.</i> Harry shivered, despite himself. <i>Very well. But why would you protect-</i> He cut himself off abruptly. <i>No, no. Far be it from me to look a gift moron in the mouth.</i></p><p>Marvolo was always going on and on about his various safehouses and lairs, stuffed to the gills with protective spells, deathtraps, and an inexplicably vast number of chimeras. Harry was sure that he would know of at least one place where he could stay for the summer, if not several. <i>Well?</i></p><p><i>I'm</i> thinking,<i> Potter.</i></p><p><i>What's there to think about?</i> Harry thought, somewhat bewildered. <i>How about that eldritch castle you mentioned? The one with the moat full of zombies and rooms packed full of dark magical artifacts?</i></p><p><i>The-? Ah, yes. </i>That<i> castle.</i> Marvolo cleared his throat, speaking hurriedly. <i>Actually, now that I think of it, I have the perfect location in mind. Very villainous. In fact, you should probably leave right away, Potter, so that nobody can track you there.</i></p><p>That suited Harry just fine. Everywhere he looked just reminded him of something else about the Dursleys, and every memory brought back that sick and hollow feeling in full force. He hurriedly shoved the few items he'd unpacked back into his trunk, belatedly remembering to put a hat on as a sort of flimsy disguise.</p><p>Perhaps he could think of it as an adventure. But no matter where Marvolo's lair was, Harry was absolutely certain that it would be better than <i>this.</i></p><p>***</p><p>"It's a shack," Harry said flatly, staring at the dilapidated shed in front of him.</p><p><i>It's a lair, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, somewhat defensively. <i>And the deal was for 'somewhere to hide', was it not?</i></p><p><i>I meant 'somewhere' like a house, not a condemned ruin!</i> Hedwig hooted disconsolately from her cage, either picking up on Harry's mood or voicing her own opinion on their surroundings. <i>Why can't we hide in one of your other lairs? You know, one that won't collapse on our heads or kill me with tetanus?</i></p><p><i>The bloody cheek,</i> Marvolo grumbled. <i>Give your aspiring minion their very own lair - with horrendous dark protections already built in, mind - and all they do is complain about the architecture-</i></p><p><i>Marvolo, there is a </i>mummified<i> snake nailed to the door,</i> Harry thought flatly.</p><p><i>An elegant and well-preserved security measure! Would </i>you<i> willingly walk into a building marked with such an ominous dark guardian?</i></p><p><i>No!</i> Harry snapped. <i>That's my entire point!</i></p><p>Marvolo sighed. <i>Look, Potter, my other safehouses were probably raided as soon as I became 'differently alive', so to speak. They were not exactly what one would call shining examples of subtlety. And even if they haven't been raided, do you really fancy seeing what eleven years of starvation does to a chimera's already delightfully murderous instincts?</i></p><p>Harry's shoulders slumped. <i>So you're saying this is all we've got?</i></p><p><i>I'm saying that this is excellent for a first evil lair, all things considered,</i> Marvolo said, a hint of defensiveness entering his voice. <i>Take it or leave it, Potter.</i></p><p>It wasn't as if Harry really had a choice. He sighed, reaching down to pick up his trunk again. <i>I'll take it.</i></p><p><i>Wait!</i> Marvolo exclaimed. <i>You'll need the passphrase to deactivate the deathtraps. 'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four,' in Parseltongue to the door's guardian.</i></p><p>Harry frowned. <i>Isn't that the same password for the Chamber of Secrets?</i></p><p><i>Don't tell me you have a problem with </i>that,<i> too, Potter,</i> Marvolo hissed.</p><p><i>I just don't think you're supposed to use the same password twice,</i> Harry thought hesitantly. <i>It's not very secure-</i></p><p><i>It worked for Salazar Slytherin for a thousand years, did it not?</i> his friend snapped. <i>I would say that indicates that it's </i>quite<i> secure.</i></p><p>Harry couldn't really argue with that. Obediently, he spoke the dreaded passphrase, wrinkling his nose slightly as the snake jerked away from the nail - leaving vast swathes of rotting flesh and scales behind - and slithered into the alarmingly wide gap under the door. He held his head high, attempting to imitate Draco's best maximally snobby pose as he prepared to cross the threshold of his new home. Perhaps he was being too harsh on Marvolo. After all, weren't wizarding houses supposed to be bigger on the inside than on the outside? Perhaps there really would be a decent townhouse within-</p><p>Harry's expectations, as minimal as they were, were instantly dashed the moment he stepped inside. No. It was a shack.</p><p>It was a shack that was, in fact, in an abysmally poor state of repair. The small, cramped rooms were lit only by whatever faint illumination had managed to make its way through the gaping holes in the roof; damp tendrils of moss liberally blanketed the walls, leaving Harry's fingers stained green from where they brushed against the dangling strands. The only good thing that could be said about the floorboards was that they weren't visibly rotten, although the same could not be said about the splintered remnants of the wooden dining room set that had collapsed in the center of the room Harry stood in. The air was thick with the scent of dust and spiced ever so gently with a hint of decay, helped not in the slightest by the trail of partially decomposed body parts left behind by the snake as it had traveled through the shack.</p><p>In short, it was a dump of catastrophically epic magnitude.</p><p><i>All right,</i> Marvolo admitted. <i>It may be somewhat of a fixer-upper.</i></p><p>A horrifying thought struck Harry at that moment. He peered around frantically, straining to make out the outlines of furniture in the dim light. <i>Is..is there a bathroom in this lair?</i></p><p>
  <i>Oh, not again. Why are you so obsessed with infrastructure, Potter?</i>
</p><p><i>You'd pay attention to the plumbing too, if you had a body!</i> Harry thought furiously.</p><p><i>I highly doubt that,</i> Marvolo said snobbily. <i>It's beginning to border on a pathology with you, Potter.</i> Harry growled wordlessly until Marvolo finally relented. <i>There ought to be a chamberpot somewhere around here. And there's a perfectly serviceable stream out back, within the protective enchantments.</i></p><p><i>This is the worst lair ever,</i> Harry thought. <i>How could you possibly think anyone could live here?</i></p><p><i>Living is not precisely what I had in mind. It's an excellent place to dispose of bodies,</i> Marvolo said, with enough sincerity that Harry shuddered as he eyed the suspiciously intact floorboards again.</p><p>As he watched, the snake re-emerged from beneath the floor of the shack, carefully balancing a dull ring with a cloudy black stone in its center on its now largely skeletal nose. Marvolo's choice of hideout instantly made perfect sense. <i>It's another piece of your soul, isn't it,</i> Harry thought gloomily.</p><p><i>My superior intellect is matched only by my dark efficiency,</i> Marvolo said gleefully, a blatant lie if Harry had ever heard one. He covered his nose, waving his hand in front of his face in an attempt to ward off the smell, but his efforts were utterly in vain.</p><p>For a moment, Harry thought of turning around and walking right back out the door again. But then he thought of having to explain what had happened to Dumbledore - or, worse, to Draco - and his resolve returned. If he was going to get through this, he had to look on the positive side. The shack was roomier than his cupboard had been, at least, and Marvolo had assured him on the way that he would be able to use magic within. Surely there were some good cleaning spells mentioned in his books?</p><p>It turned out that <i>Scourgify</i> was a bit harder to get the hang of than he'd thought. But after a couple of hours spent determinedly practicing while ignoring Marvolo's self-satisfied cackling, Harry was able to clean enough of one of the rooms to push his trunk against the wall and curl up against it on the floor.</p><p><i>Move over a bit to the right,</i> Marvolo advised him. <i>I had a particularly nasty withering curse set on that floorboard you're sitting on.</i></p><p>Harry hastily scooted over, pulling his trunk with him. <i>I thought you said I'd deactivated all the deathtraps!</i></p><p><i>Well, yes,</i> Marvolo admitted, <i>but if you're going to go to sleep already, I'd like to have a nice view with which to reflect on my own brilliance.</i></p><p><i>Of course,</i> Harry thought, managing not to sound overly sarcastic. He had to admit, he was exhausted. Marvolo's paranoia had kicked into overdrive as soon as he'd stepped out the door - they'd taken the Knight Bus a decent distance away from Little Whinging, but Marvolo had insisted on them switching to Muggle buses, a cab, and even walking short distances on foot after that to obscure their trail. It had put a decent dent into the Muggle money Aunt Petunia had left him, and Harry's arms burned from having to drag his school trunk around. After his initial burst of panic, he'd been pretty sure that nobody would be tracking him down anyways; still, he understood Marvolo's concerns to a certain extent. If he'd had such an embarrassing lair, Harry would probably have wanted to make sure that nobody else could find it, either.</p><p>Harry's last thought before drifting off to sleep was that he desperately needed more minions, if only for the added legitimacy.</p><p>***</p><p>Food, Harry quickly realized, was going to be a problem.</p><p>His supplies amounted to the few sandwiches he'd bought from the trolley on the Hogwarts Express, an admittedly large stockpile of wizarding candy, and the decidedly stale half-loaf of bread he'd taken from the house. Marvolo indignantly proclaimed that he knew nothing of such mundanities as 'groceries' or 'boring starvation.' He was clearly waiting for Harry to ask him what 'fun starvation' was, so Harry made sure not to ask.</p><p>With Marvolo safely sulking in a corner of his head, he decided to concentrate on making the rest of the shack a little less horrifying. The more he wore himself out, the less he had to think about what had happened yesterday, which suited Harry just fine. Hedwig turned out to be a huge help, preying on whichever mice dared to show themselves while pointing out spots he'd missed cleaning with only slightly disapproving hoots.</p><p>In fact, after a couple of days, Harry started to think that the shack wasn't so bad after all. With the exception of the undead snake, who he'd politely asked to slither into a distant corner, he managed to get the worst of the grime off the floors, and even scraped together a makeshift pillow out of the wall moss. He began to put together a plan for the summer - he'd search for a grocer's tomorrow, before his sandwiches ran out. Perhaps he would even be lucky enough to find a camping set - Marvolo had mentioned that there was a Muggle town nearby, although from the way he'd described it, his knowledge seemed weirdly out of date. And once he had a decent enough setup, he'd be free to practice all the magic he liked.</p><p>For a moment, Harry dared to hope that things were finally looking up for him.</p><p>The next morning, a torrential rainstorm poured through the broken roof, nearly washing away Marvolo's Horcrux, fully deanimating the unfortunate snake, and utterly and completely soaking Harry and a very displeased Hedwig to the bone.</p><p><i>Worst. Lair. Ever,</i> Harry thought forcefully, concentrating on keeping his teeth from chattering.</p><p>You <i>try maintaining the upkeep of a place while you're dead, Potter,</i> Marvolo snapped. <i>See how you like it.</i></p><p>Harry gestured expressively towards the largest gap in the ceiling, instantly regretting the move as a fresh trickle of cold water ran down his arm. <i>It got this bad in only eleven years?</i></p><p><i>Of course not,</i> Marvolo scoffed. <i>I mean that I killed the previous owner-</i></p><p><i>All right, that's it.</i> Harry stood up, grabbing his trunk.</p><p><i>I didn't kill him directly!</i> Marvolo protested.</p><p>Unwilling to risk drenching the contents of his trunk as well, Harry pulled off one of his socks, using it to wrap up Marvolo's ring and shoving the soggy ensemble deep into the pocket of his jeans. He was cold, and hungry, and really tired of squatting in a disembodied dark lord's reject lair like some sort of peon when he could be doing the sensible thing and mooching off Draco for the rest of the summer.</p><p><i>What happened to your vaunted 'pride and dignity,' Potter?</i> Marvolo asked, rather more cattily than Harry thought the situation deserved.</p><p>Harry looked down at his waterlogged trainers, then back up at the remnants of the roof. <i>I think we've rather established that neither of us actually has any dignity, don't you?</i></p><p><i>I would have infinitely more dignity,</i> Marvolo said coldly, <i>if a quarter of my soul was not currently residing within your disgusting used sock.</i></p><p>Harry wondered, as he'd done almost every day for the past two years, how they'd gotten to the point where conversations like this were not only normal, but practically expected. As usual, the realization that he was starting to think like Marvolo was more than a little unnerving, so Harry did what he did best and decided to ignore it.</p><p>He argued with Marvolo briefly about their transportation arrangements. He'd been lucky enough to catch a cab from a Muggle bus stop when he'd first come to the shack, but there was no way for Harry to call a cabbie out here. And there was absolutely no way Harry was going to walk anywhere, so the Knight Bus was really their only option. Still, as a concession to Marvolo's paranoia, Harry dragged his trunk through the mud until the shack was no longer visible behind him before flattening his bangs over his scar, tucking his rain-streaked glasses into his other jeans pocket, and sticking out his wand.</p><p>"Cor blimey," the bus driver said, almost admiringly, as Harry climbed aboard. "This really is the middle of nowhere, isn't it?"</p><p>"You're telling me," Harry said darkly. Still, his mood improved immensely as soon as he stepped into the temperature-controlled bus. Perhaps due to the weather, there seemed to be no other passengers aboard; still, Harry made sure to look around carefully before he dropped Marvolo's Horcrux into the trunk. He pulled out a spare set of robes to hastily don over his obviously worse-for-wear Muggle clothes, dragging his comb through his hair a couple of times in a vain attempt to look at least somewhat normal. He was aware that he looked woefully far from presentable, but Harry was hoping that he'd at least be able to pass for someone who was capable of maintaining basic hygiene.</p><p>The bar, he would later reflect, had been far too high.</p><p>***</p><p>Draco hadn't been joking about the size of his house. Malfoy Manor was an actual mansion, with gorgeous wrought iron gates that swung open easily at his touch and a long gravel driveway that somehow managed to look elegant yet functional at the same time. Harry kept a nervous eye out for the infamous wild peacocks as he trudged towards the main door after his harrowingly fast bus ride. Luckily, the rain seemed to be keeping them at bay.</p><p>To his astonishment, the door swung open even before Harry raised his hand to knock. Draco, clad in an immense amount of protective gear and with a Quaffle tucked under his arm, was hoisting a very expensive-looking broom over his shoulder as he hurried outside. "-don't you dare tell Father, and that's an order!" he called over his shoulder to someone unseen. His jaw dropped as he turned around, nearly bumping straight into Harry. "Harry?! You didn't say you were coming over today!"</p><p>"Erm, hi," Harry said, waving his hand lamely. Hedwig hooted a greeting with considerably more elegance. "Er, are you going flying-?"</p><p>Draco's cheeks reddened. "It's not as if I need all this stupid gear! I've been flying for ages, and this broom's so <i>last year</i> - a Nimbus 2000, you know, the new model's out in just a couple months - but Mother's so frightfully stodgy about brooms; she's ordered all the house elves to make sure I wear this whole getup before I go out. It's awfully rubbish, you know?"</p><p>Harry didn't know, actually. It sounded like Draco's mum cared about him a lot, which was...all kinds of wonderful, really. He nodded along, trying to make it seem like he knew what Draco was talking about. "Uh, yeah. Definitely."</p><p>Draco winced, seemingly realizing that he might have sounded a bit insensitive. "Anyways, you'd better come in," he said hurriedly, waving Harry inside. His nose wrinkled slightly as Harry moved past him. "Merlin, you look a right mess. What, were you living in a <i>shack</i> for the summer or something?"</p><p>"What?" Harry laughed nervously. "Erm, no. That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? Ha! Ha! Ha!"</p><p>
  <i>Smooth as usual, Potter.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Oh, shut it.</i>
</p><p>Draco eyed him oddly for a moment, then shrugged, evidently categorizing his answer with the rest of Harry's eccentricities. He gestured towards a rather ragged-looking house-elf waiting near the back of the foyer. "Dobby! We have a guest. Get him some food, will you? And take care of his trunk and the owl, too," he added, tactfully not making any more mention of their muddy and bedraggling appearance.</p><p>The house-elf continued staring at Harry, his jaw almost comically dropped and his large eyes as round as saucers. Harry waved hesitantly at him, wincing as the elf squeaked loudly, its eyes welling up with tears of...gratitude?</p><p>"Dobby!" Draco snapped.</p><p>The elf yelped again, its bat-like ears shooting upward. "Y-yes, Master Draco! Right away, Master Draco!" he squeaked, before disappearing with a soft pop, taking Hedwig and Harry's things with him.</p><p>"Useless, that one," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Completely off his rocker, too - honestly, I don't know why Mother and Father keep him around..."</p><p>A soft chiming noise sounded behind them. For a moment, Harry thought Dobby had returned already. To his and Draco's shock, a silvery-white, translucent phoenix floated through the still-open doorway towards them, glowing with a radiant light. To Harry's shock, it opened its beak and spoke with Dumbledore's voice. "Harry Potter. Stay where you are," the phoenix said urgently. "I'm coming to rescue you."</p><p>"Rescue?" Harry said blankly. But the phoenix let out another chime and vanished into thin air.</p><p>"All right, Harry," Draco said in a long-suffering voice. "What did you do."</p><p>"Hey, why is it always me?" Harry protested. Draco just gave him an exasperated look. "All right, I probably did do something," he admitted.</p><p>Dobby popped back into the lobby, a tray piled high with tantalizing pastries and goblets of pumpkin juice cradled in his arms. "Dobby is back, sirs! Would Harry Potter like a biscuit-"</p><p>Surrounded by an explosive halo of coruscating flame, Albus Dumbledore teleported into Draco's front lobby, clutching a real live phoenix by the tailfeathers and brandishing his wand. His blue eyes glinted with a brilliant and terrible light as he spun around, casting a spell that sent Dobby's tray and Draco's broom flying from their grasps with one powerful sweeping move. In his head, Marvolo let out a girlish shriek. "YOU WILL STAND DOWN AND RELINQUISH HARRY POTTER TO ME AT ONCE, FOLLOWERS OF-"</p><p>He cut off his roar abruptly as he whirled to face Harry. In the space of mere seconds, his keen eyes took in the scene - the pastry-covered Dobby; the Quidditch gear Draco was wearing; the two boys with utterly flabbergasted expressions staring at him in the Malfoy Manor's lobby. "AH," he said, his features transforming from stern and unyielding to 'slightly batty grandfather' in the blink of an eye. "DEAR ME." He pointed his wand at his throat, muttering a quick enchantment to cancel the charm he'd used to amplify his voice. "I seem to have...misinterpreted the situation somewhat." His halo of flame sputtered apologetically before winking out, leaving a few scorch marks behind on the tiles.</p><p>Harry turned to Draco, expecting him to say something. But for once, the other boy was completely speechless. "Er," Harry said weakly. "Hello, Headmaster."</p><p>Dumbledore beamed at him reassuringly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Hello, Mr. Potter. I am terribly glad to see that you are safe. But, if you will indulge an old man's curiosity, might I ask - where in the name of the Founders have you <i>been?"</i></p><p>"My father will hear of this!" Draco croaked, evidently having regained the power of speech.</p><p>"Alas," Dumbledore said, sighing. "Once again, my impetuosity has had the better of me. You have nothing to fear, Mr. Malfoy. This will only take a moment."</p><p>"Hang on a second-" Harry began, but Dumbledore had already waved his wand again. Time instantly froze around them. Harry stared in fascination as Draco's hand began to rise, as slowly as if he was moving through treacle rather than air.</p><p>"We shall have a minute," Dumbledore said seriously. "Mr. Potter, please forgive me these precautions. But given the events of the past few days, I feared the worst for you."</p><p>Harry felt as if he was missing something. How did Dumbledore already know what had happened to him? He hadn't told a soul about his family - no, he thought with a wrenching sort of pain, he had to think of them as 'the Dursleys' now - "What do you mean, sir?" he asked, covering hastily for his inner turmoil.</p><p>Dumbledore peered at him curiously over the lenses of his half-moon glasses. "I refer to the riot at Azkaban, the wizarding prison. A very dangerous man escaped three days ago, and I believed that you may be in grave peril from him. May I infer from this question that you have not heard the news?"</p><p><i>Ooh, was it Barty?</i> Marvolo whispered, perking up slightly. <i>He was always my second favorite!</i></p><p>"I haven't really been keeping up with the news," Harry admitted. "Who was it, sir?"</p><p>The corners of Dumbledore's mouth turned down unhappily. "His name is Sirius Black," he said, watching Harry carefully as if he was waiting for him to react to the name. "He was one of Voldemort's most cunning and treacherous followers during the war."</p><p><i>He was?</i> Marvolo asked, sounding completely bewildered.</p><p>Marvolo seemed to know rather a lot of dark wizards, so Harry supposed that this Sirius Black must have been quite cunning indeed for his friend to not know of him. "What did he do?" Harry asked.</p><p>"He was convicted for mass murder," Dumbledore said solemnly. "That was why, when I discovered that the wards on your home had collapsed, and found you missing-"</p><p>Once again, the conversation was flying straight over Harry's head. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he didn't like it in the slightest. "Wards?" Harry said blankly.</p><p>"Your mother's sacrifice protected you from Voldemort's spirit this year," Dumbledore said quietly. "Love is the strongest of all magics, and it was by blood that magical protections were extended over your house. When your aunt took you in, she shielded you from harm by Voldemort and his dark powers for so long as you were beneath her roof."</p><p>Harry flinched, his hands curling at his sides. So his mother had been with him, in a way, at Privet Drive. Her, his dad, Dumbledore, his relatives - they'd all been protecting him, all this time. And he'd taken that love and protection and ruined everything. He'd driven his aunt away, and she was <i>never</i> coming back-</p><p>Dumbledore knelt down to Harry's eye level, placing his hands on his shoulders. Harry ducked his head, remembering Marvolo's warning to never look him in the eyes. He had to be careful; had to make sure he didn't give anything away-</p><p>"Harry," the Headmaster said gently. "Are you all right?"</p><p>Indifference, fear, even insults; those, Harry had been able to bear for the past several days with a curious numbness, as if he was detached from sadness and pain alike. But for some reason, it was Dumbledore's simple kindness that finally made him break down. He quickly scrubbed at his eyes while blinking rapidly, managing through heroic dint of effort not to cry. But then Dumbledore said, softly: "Forgive me for my mistake, Harry. I had hoped that, of all things, you would be spared from such cruelty. But I have erred, Harry...I have erred in my judgment of your aunt, and you have suffered for it..."</p><p>"It's my fault," Harry choked out, and then there was wetness under his eyes, and then once he'd started it seemed impossible to stop, no matter how hard he tried. "It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault-"</p><p>But Dumbledore was there, calm and soothing. "It's not your fault, Harry. Do you understand me? None of what has happened is your fault."</p><p>Harry didn't know whether or not he believed Dumbledore. But he couldn't stay like this. He hiccoughed, pressing his sleeve against his eyes and squeezing them tightly shut, but for some reason he just couldn't seem to stem the flow of tears. He was all too aware that he was having a complete breakdown in the middle of the Malfoy Manor's lobby, with his best mate still stuck outside the bubble of frozen time watching him bawl, for all he knew, which was all <i>sorts</i> of weak and pathetic.</p><p>But Dumbledore didn't call him weak, or pathetic. Instead, he said: "Let us go home, Harry, if you would like. For Hogwarts will always provide help to those who ask for it."</p><p>"And I can stay?" Harry whispered.</p><p>"You can stay for as long as you like," Dumbledore assured him.</p><p><i>Hypocrite,</i> Marvolo snarled, his voice almost raw with rage. <i>Liar - you never told me that </i>I<i> could stay-</i></p><p>But Harry had already nodded. Dumbledore's grip tightened on his shoulders, and bands of pressure wrapped around Harry's chest, choking the breath from his lungs; squeezing his skull until the moisture on his cheeks wicked away-</p><p>And then it was over, and they were kneeling on familiar stone in the safest place Harry had ever known.</p><p>And at last, when he opened his eyes, he was home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Diary Dearest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry perched on the visitor’s chair in Dumbledore’s office, a mug of hot tea cradled in his hands and his robes freshly scrubbed by magic. He felt infinitely better already, and strangely relieved as well, as if a heavy weight that he didn’t know he’d been carrying had been lifted from where it had been tied around his chest.</p>
<p>Dumbledore hummed absently to himself as he busied himself with building a paper tower out of what looked like several rather important documents. He’d managed to achieve quite an impressive height over the past several minutes; unfortunately, as Harry watched, the top of the tower wobbled and collapsed spectacularly, sending the entire construction tumbling to the ground. “Alas,” Dumbledore said, pulling such a face that Harry had to smile.</p>
<p>“Sorry, sir,” he said.</p>
<p>“It’s quite all right,” Dumbledore said, smiling at him. “I should have built the base from those complaint forms Severus keeps submitting – nice and sturdy, those are.” He swept the paperwork aside with a brisk movement of his arm. “Are you feeling better, Mr. Potter?”</p>
<p>“Yes, loads,” Harry said gratefully. “Thank you, sir.”</p>
<p>“Wonderful!” Dumbledore tucked his hands into his sleeves, beaming benevolently. “Do you feel up to talking about what happened over the past three days?”</p>
<p>A twinge of rage that wasn’t his own pulsed deep in his brain. <i>Don’t tell him anything,</i> Marvolo hissed.</p>
<p><i>What did you mean before? About asking him if you could stay?</i> Harry asked, but Marvolo didn’t answer, retreating into stony silence.</p>
<p>Harry covered up this one-sided debate by taking a long gulp of his tea. “Well, sir,” he said slowly, remembering Snape’s hard-won advice about getting better at lying, “I know it was pretty stupid of me, but I sort of panicked. Um, I thought I could go to this Muggle campground that we’d gone to before, but then I got lost and ended up wandering around until I found this abandoned house.</p>
<p>“I figured I could handle camping out there for a few days, but it was actually really rubbish-“ That part wasn’t a lie, at least; in fact, it was rather an understatement. “And then I ran out of sandwiches, so I gave it up as a bad job and figured I could maybe go hang out with Draco instead. I didn’t really think anyone was looking for me,” he said apologetically.</p>
<p>“I see,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard as he nodded wisely. “That was very resourceful of you, Mr. Potter. But one thing does pique my curiosity.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Harry said, trying to sound casual.</p>
<p>“You see, as soon as I discovered that you were missing, I tried to find you. But a most curious thing happened. The owls I sent after you returned unsuccessfully; nor did the efforts of several adult witches and wizards who volunteered to help bear any fruit. And then, most surprisingly of all, my Patronus was completely unable to locate you either.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” Harry said, staring at his mug of tea. Innocence didn’t really come naturally to him; he suspected that it didn’t suit him particularly well. “Imagine that.”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, as mildly as if they had been talking about the weather. “But I must ask you, Harry: do you have any idea why this might have been the case?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Harry said, choosing his words carefully, “I was using my Invisibility Cloak, sir.” Technically, he’d been using it as a blanket, but the Headmaster didn’t really need to know the sordid details of his sojourn in Marvolo’s lair. “In case anyone saw me. Maybe that was why?”</p>
<p>Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but didn’t comment on the plausibility – or lack thereof – of this statement. “Perhaps, Mr. Potter. Perhaps.” He paused delicately for a moment. “I regret that I must address this, but efforts were made to find your relatives as well-“</p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened as he sat bolt upright in his seat. “It’s not their fault!” he blurted out. “Please don’t wipe their memories!”</p>
<p>The Headmaster’s face fell. “I know that I have let you down in many ways, Harry,” he said quietly. “But I do hope that you do not think of me as a cruel sort of person.”</p>
<p>“I don’t!” Harry said vehemently, horrified at the thought that he’d made Dumbledore upset. “You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met; I don’t think you’re cruel at all!” For some reason, the Headmaster looked even sadder for a moment before his genial smile returned. Perhaps it had just been Harry’s imagination.</p>
<p><i>You juvenile, naïve, simplistic moron,</i> Marvolo hissed. <i>You actually believe his little act, don’t you?</i></p>
<p><i>Don’t you start,</i> Harry thought, more than a little peeved. <i>You’re the one who pretends to loudly throw up every time Dumbledore says anything!</i></p>
<p><i>That is justified antipathy, Potter,</i> Marvolo said coldly. <i>Completely different.</i></p>
<p>“I would not send you back to Privet Drive, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “My offer for you to stay was sincere.”</p>
<p>“What? Oh, no, it’s not that,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I’d heard from, erm, my friends that the Ministry Memory Charms Muggles all the time, sir. You know, to make them do stuff. But they’re really scared of magic, and…and they don’t want me around anyways, so it’d be a horrible thing to do and there wouldn’t be any point to going after them…” His voice trailed off.</p>
<p>“I see.” Dumbledore’s voice sounded a little odd. “Your concern was for the safety of your relatives, rather than your own self.”</p>
<p>“Er, yeah.” Harry self-consciously took another sip of his tea. It did sound a little weird when Dumbledore put it like that.</p>
<p>“I am very proud of you, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said, very seriously. “You humble an old and foolish man.”</p>
<p>“Um,” Harry said, feeling more than a little alarmed. “Sorry?”</p>
<p>The Headmaster looked as if he was about to elaborate, but then another soft chime sounded from beneath one of the piles of papers on his desk. “Ah,” he said. “We have a visitor, it seems.“</p>
<p>The door to Dumbledore’s office burst open, and in strode an aristocratic man who could only be Draco’s father. The resemblance was uncanny, from his long blond hair to his incredibly impressive sneer, which practically screamed: ‘Bow, peasants!’ with just the <i>right</i> amount of smug superiority.</p>
<p>“I must admit,” Lucius Malfoy drawled, sounding once again very much like Draco at his snobbiest, “when Draco told me that Albus Dumbledore had trespassed onto the Manor grounds, lit the house-elf on fire, and kidnapped Harry Potter from our foyer, I initially believed that he was exaggerating.”</p>
<p>“I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, that Mr. Potter came along willingly,” Dumbledore said mildly, unruffled in the face of his opponent’s perfectly enunciated denunciations. “And I do believe that your house-elf was unharmed, aside from the regrettable loss of his snack tray. But surely you did not come all the way to Hogwarts simply to complain about this perceived slight?”</p>
<p>The sneer widened further. “I would not have bothered, had Draco not insisted that I ascertain Mr. Potter’s safety.” Harry hid his happy grin with another gulp of tea. “In my capacity as a school governor, of course.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Dumbledore said affably. “Now, unless there was anything else…?”</p>
<p>The elder Malfoy’s gaze lingered on the paperwork, a slight frown marring his features for a moment. “I was not aware,” he said imperiously, “that you were in a hurry, <i>Headmaster</i> Dumbledore.” Harry groaned internally, recognizing Draco’s ‘I-scorn-your-polite-dismissals’ voice. Even if he’d meant to leave before, there was no way Draco’s dad would back down now.</p>
<p>“Not at all,” Dumbledore said. “We were merely discussing Mr. Potter’s plans for the summer.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Lucius Malfoy said. The sneer lessened ever-so-slightly. “Draco mentioned that Mr. Potter would be staying with us for a few days.”</p>
<p>“That will not be necessary,” Dumbledore said, “seeing as Mr. Potter has expressed a desire to stay at Hogwarts-“</p>
<p>Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “Draco was quite effusive in his excitement. It appears that Mr. Potter has also expressed a desire to stay at the Manor for a few weeks, which is surely…” He looked around the office, found nothing to really disapprove of, and settled for gesturing at Dumbledore’s cluttered desk instead as the sneer returned. “A more <i>suitable</i> environment.”</p>
<p>Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “A more suitable environment than the boarding school for which you serve as a governor, Mr. Malfoy?”</p>
<p>“Official supervision and budgeting requests for emergency accommodation over the summer must be filed with the appropriate authorities at least sixteen months in advance to avoid litigation, as you well know-“</p>
<p>Dumbledore hummed, stroking his beard. “Now that you mention it, Mr. Potter has had invitations from the Longbottom family as well. And I believe Molly Weasley expressed an interest in Mr. Potter’s well-being as well-“ Harry nearly choked on his tea.</p>
<p>“My son,” Lucius Malfoy declared haughtily, hands tightening around the handle of his snake-headed cane, “invited Mr. Potter to stay for the summer holidays <i>first.”</i></p>
<p>“Technically,” Dumbledore said, “that honour would go to Lily Potter’s first-cousin-once-removed, who I believe operates an acclaimed international restaurant in Plymouth – something to do with Kentucky, I believe –“</p>
<p>An appalled look flashed across Mr. Malfoy’s face. “You would leave a wizarding child with <i>Muggles?!”</i></p>
<p>“With a professor, then,” Dumbledore said. “I think Severus would do rather nicely.” Both Mr. Malfoy and Harry turned to stare at him with identical expressions of absolute horror. “Perhaps not Severus,” Dumbledore admitted.</p>
<p>“Erm, excuse me!” Harry cleared his throat somewhat nervously as the two men turned to look at him. “Um, I think I’d like to stay with Draco for a bit, if I could-“ Lucius Malfoy smiled triumphantly. “-and then maybe come back to Hogwarts afterward?”</p>
<p>“Given the circumstances, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said gravely, “perhaps it would be best to remain at Hogwarts for the time being.” For once, Harry didn’t need Marvolo to translate – it was clear enough that Dumbledore knew about the elder Malfoy’s status as an ex-minion, and was worried about Harry’s safety now that the blood protection from the house was gone.</p>
<p>Little did Dumbledore know that the biggest threat to Harry’s safety would be his plans to steal a piece of Marvolo’s soul from wherever Lucius Malfoy had stashed it. Harry knew that Draco’s dad was only fighting over hosting him on general principle to irritate Dumbledore; however, even though staying at Hogwarts would be super cool, this would possibly be his best chance ever to retrieve the diary without resorting to more weirdly suggestive letters.</p>
<p>And plus, he’d be able to hang out with Draco in his ludicrously awesome wizard mansion.</p>
<p>Dumbledore still seemed somewhat resistant to the idea, however. Harry knew that it was time to play his trump card.</p>
<p>“But sir,” he said, “isn’t the power of friendship the most transformational force in the world, and one of the greatest bulwarks guarding against both evil and tendencies towards self-preservation? Which would make spending time with Draco a crucial, um, formative stage along the path of the hero?”</p>
<p>Dumbledore wiped a proud tear from his eye, while Lucius Malfoy stared down his nose at Harry as if he’d just proclaimed his public support for house-elf liberation. “An excellent interpretation of Chapter 15, Mr. Potter! Truly, well done!”</p>
<p>“So I can go to Draco’s house for the hols, then?” Harry said quickly.</p>
<p>He almost missed Dumbledore’s response, drowned out as it was by the sound of Marvolo fake-retching as loudly as he possibly could. “You may stay with your friend for a month’s time, Harry. But after that, I would request that you return to Hogwarts for the rest of the summer. By that time, the wards will have been reinforced to guard against any possible intrusion by Sirius Black.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, sir!” Harry said enthusiastically. After his little speech, Mr. Malfoy looked far less enthusiastic, but Harry figured that he could just explain to him that Dumbledorese was a language of its own sometimes. Marvolo had described him as being among the most sane of his minions, though, so it was a toss-up as to whether he’d understand or not.</p>
<p>Another skull-crushing jaunt through space, and they were back at the Manor. Draco did his best to act nonchalant at Harry’s reappearance, which Harry graciously allowed him to get away with. He knew that Draco really was his best mate, after all.</p>
<p>And besides, now his plan could finally begin.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The first step, of course, was reconnaissance.</p>
<p>The reason for this step was that Harry hadn’t actually <i>made</i> any sort of plan beyond getting into Malfoy Manor, finding Lucius Malfoy’s secret lair, and nicking Marvolo’s soul out of it.</p>
<p>Immediately, two problems with this course of action became apparent. Firstly, Lucius Malfoy seemed to be a far more subtle sort of dark wizard than Marvolo (or Quirrell, for that matter). There was nothing on his initial tour of the house that stood out as particularly ominous, and despite the favorable impression he’d made on the man from Draco’s letters about his curse studies, Mr. Malfoy didn’t seem inclined to share his malevolent secrets with Harry any time soon.</p>
<p>Secondly, Draco’s house was bloody enormous. He had <i>bathrooms</i> that were bigger than Harry’s lair, which was all sorts of depressing, really.</p>
<p>So, before taking the drastic step of donning his Invisibility Cloak and sneaking around the house at night while desperately hoping he didn’t trigger any deathtraps, he decided to go the subtle route first.</p>
<p>And that meant winning the confidence of Draco’s parents.</p>
<p>Draco’s mum seemed nice enough, if somewhat reserved and bearing the requisite air of snobbiness that seemed to come with owning a place like this. She warmed up to him immediately, however, when he regaled her with stories about Draco over dinner – only the coolest ones, of course, like when he’d shown up Lockhart in class by knowing what the Transmogrifian Torture actually did, or how he and Pansy had cleverly used levitation charms on a spare set of Gobstones to demonstrate Quidditch plays for Harry before Slytherin’s first match. By the end of their first meal together, she’d loosened up enough to give him a warm smile and murmur elegantly: “What a charming young man you are. Please, call me Narcissa.”</p>
<p>Draco’s dad did not invite Harry to call him Lucius.</p>
<p>He was perfectly polite, however, and rose vastly in Harry’s estimation when he suggested that Draco and Harry go for a round of flying after supper. No sooner had the last course been cleared than Draco practically jumped out of his seat, impatiently signaling Harry to come with him.</p>
<p>“Don’t forget your protective gear, both of you!” Narcissa called after them.</p>
<p>“Mo-<i>ther,”</i> Draco said, clearly horrified at this display of fundamental uncoolness.</p>
<p>“It’s all right, I don’t mind,” Harry said quickly. “I haven’t been flying in three whole days; I’d wear one of Filch’s old robes if it meant I could get on a broom.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be <i>gauche,</i> Harry,” Draco said, with the obvious relish of having learned a new word and intending to use it as often as possible. “You can use my old broom. It’s nowhere near as good as the Nimbus line, of course, but it’s probably loads better than anything that Squib’s ever seen in his life.” Harry winced slightly at that, self-conscious of his own less-than-pristine Muggle clothes, but Draco didn’t seem to notice. </p>
<p>He forgot all about that once they were in the air. Even though Draco had been dismissive of his old broom, it was infinitely better than the ragged-looking school brooms. Harry did a quick loop-de-loop over the gardens, whooping with excitement.</p>
<p>“Show-off,” Draco said, grinning as he spiraled his broom in an impressively tight circle around Harry. “Don’t let Mother catch you doing that.”</p>
<p>“I won’t get caught,” Harry promised. He peered down at the expanse of verdant green below them. “Draco, your house is <i>amazing!”</i></p>
<p>“Well, obviously,” Draco said, preening. “It’s <i>my</i> house, after all.”</p>
<p>Harry rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Prat.”</p>
<p>An evil grin spread across Draco’s face. “That’s rich, coming from Lockhart’s number one fan.”</p>
<p>“Ugh! Take that back!”</p>
<p>“Shan’t,” Draco said smugly. “It’ll be on your Chocolate Frog card – the Dark Lord Potter, famous for offing You-Know-Who, taking over Wizarding Britain, and admiring the infamous ponce Lockhart in the year 1992-“</p>
<p>“Madagascar, not Britain,” Harry said absently.</p>
<p><i>”That’s</i> what you object to?” Draco shook his head. “Well, never mind. What do you want with Madagascar, of all places?”</p>
<p>‘My friend Marvolo called dibs on the rest of the planet’ wasn’t really much of an explanation. “I haven’t decided yet,” Harry admitted. “Maybe I’ll turn it into a giant Quidditch pitch.”</p>
<p>“Capital idea, Harry,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m shocked, really.” He snickered, dodging Harry’s playful dive. “No, really! We ought to practice for Quidditch tryouts this year. Flint gets to keep his position, obviously, but Higgs and Willoughby are graduating, so that’s a Seeker and a Chaser position open for sure.”</p>
<p><i>Such childish ambitions,</i> Marvolo sniffed. <i>Every minute spent on one of these infernal contraptions is a minute that could be better spent designing matching tattoos for one’s legion of terror.</i></p>
<p>“Sounds great,” Harry said enthusiastically, ignoring Marvolo’s grumbling. “Let’s go!”</p>
<p>Draco turned out to be a far better Keeper than Harry was, pulling off some impressive saves while using the bristles of his broom to every advantage. Neither of them were particularly keen on practicing for the Beater positions, so they switched with silent agreement to replicating Quidditch plays as Chasers. Harry thought that he did all right there, although Draco’s encyclopedic knowledge of Quidditch gave him a distinct strategic edge.</p>
<p>To Harry’s great surprise, he excelled in the role of Seeker. Despite his inferior broom, he managed to beat Draco to the Snitch every time, although there were a couple of times Draco came close to catching it first. Luckily, Draco didn’t seem too put out, especially after Harry made sure to praise his Chasing. Before they knew it, it was dark outside, and Dobby was sent to bring them back to the Manor.</p>
<p>“You’re trying for Seeker, then,” Draco declared.</p>
<p>“I guess so,” Harry said, still elated at how natural the role had felt. “Are you going to try for Chaser, or Keeper?”</p>
<p>Draco pulled a face. “It’s usually upper-years who they make Keepers,” he admitted. “More body mass to block with, and all that. I’ll go for Chaser.”</p>
<p>“You’ll get in for sure,” Harry said sincerely. He always rooted for Slytherin at Quidditch, of course, but from what he’d seen, they desperately needed new strategies other than ‘clobber the opposing team into submission with Bludgers.’ “I’m not sure if I’ll make it, though. I’ve never played Quidditch before.”</p>
<p>“False modesty is so gauche, Harry,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “With the way you fly, Flint’d have to be an idiot not to take you. And besides, if we don’t get in, I can always ask Father to bribe him with a full set of 2001s for the team.”</p>
<p>Harry laughed at that. “Can you imagine the look on Wood’s face when he sees his impending doom?”</p>
<p>“I can,” Draco said gleefully. “You’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now, though, after years of getting flattened for the Quidditch Cup.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think Gryffindors do too well with learning. Except Hermione, of course,” he added quickly.</p>
<p>“Add common sense to the list, and you’ve got it in one, Harry. They’d probably think it was-“</p>
<p>“Gauche?”</p>
<p>“Too right,” Draco said, snickering. They chattered about Quidditch as late into the night as they could get away with, stopped only by Dobby popping up again with a stern warning from Narcissa, or <i>else.</i> It wasn’t specified what this mysterious ‘else’ was, but Harry and Draco were sufficiently cowed to turn in for the evening.</p>
<p>Harry smiled to himself as he bundled himself in a cocoon of blankets in one of the Malfoys’ guest rooms. He might have had some ulterior motives in coming over to Draco’s. And he hadn’t really had a choice about leaving Privet Drive.</p>
<p>But, for the first time since he’d found his aunt’s note, he was starting to realize that maybe it really was better this way.</p>
<p>Because even one day spent with people who actually wanted him around had been better than any summer he’d ever had with his aunt and uncle in his entire life.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>After only a week at the Manor, it was quite clear to Harry that, despite Draco’s complaints about him, the Malfoys thought of their house-elf as little more than furniture. Having practically been furniture to the Dursleys himself, Harry knew that Dobby had probably seen and heard a lot more secrets than anyone could fathom. He decided to subtly pump Dobby for information on any stray bits of soul that he might have spotted while doing the dusting, or something.</p>
<p>To Harry’s horror, Draco’s claims about the house-elf being unhinged seemed to be spot-on. Even a polite ‘How d’you do?’ was enough to make him alternate between bursting into tears and praising Harry’s goodness to a degree that was extremely uncomfortable. He’d tried starting with an innocuous question about Mr. Malfoy’s plans for the summer, but that had led to Dobby passionately insulting his owner and then attempting to harm himself, which Harry had put a stop to immediately. Still, the experience left him unsettled enough to leave the house-elf alone, worried that he’d end up really hurting himself before Harry could physically prevent him from doing so.</p>
<p>Luckily, Draco turned out to be his unlikely savior. Harry was nosing around the library the next day when Draco dashed in, eyes alight with malicious glee. “You’ll never guess what I just heard!”</p>
<p>“Crabbe and Goyle got lost in their own backyard again?” Harry guessed.</p>
<p>“Oh, <i>that,”</i> Draco said, waving his hand dismissively. “That happens all the time. No, I heard that the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic got sacked!” He paused, staring at Harry expectantly.</p>
<p>“Erm,” Harry said. “What’s a Senior Undersecretary?”</p>
<p>“Someone important, <i>obviously,”</i> Draco said impatiently. Harry was slightly mollified by the fact that Draco didn’t know who this person was, either. “Anyways, in far more interesting news, apparently she pitched a fit after Sirius Black escaped and tried to blame the Aurors, of all people! So then the magical beasts they’ve got guarding the prison went spare and started trying to attack the Aurors <i>and</i> the prisoners, and two people got kissed and died – so I guess the guards were Veela or something – and everyone was outraged and the Minister had to sack her! Can you believe it?”</p>
<p>Harry desperately tried to process this rapidfire dose of information, delivered in much the same manner as Pansy’s observations about their classmates’ personal habits. “How do you know all this?” he asked, bewildered.</p>
<p>“Heard it from Father, obviously.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Harry said, feeling a little jealous. Nobody ever told him anything. Well, except Marvolo, of course, but he figured it didn’t count if half the things Marvolo told him were blatant attempts to get him killed. “That’s really cool of your dad.”</p>
<p>“Well…” Draco looked around shiftily. “He didn’t precisely tell <i>me,</i> per se. I obtained the information through judicious application of Slytherin principles-“ Translation: he’d shamelessly eavesdropped. “-and besides, Father’s got a cubby just for that purpose, anyways. Seems a shame to me to let it go unused.”</p>
<p>As it turned out, there was indeed a small passageway leading to a viewing cubby that overlooked Lucius Malfoy’s study. It was a tight fit for Draco, but perfectly suitable for a small child – or a house elf, Harry thought. Perhaps Dobby wasn’t entirely furniture, after all.</p>
<p>Still, the elder Malfoy’s clever methods of gathering blackmail weren’t particularly Harry’s concern. No, what Harry was concerned with was the large, important-looking wizarding safe which he caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy concealing with a charm before leaving his study. Harry was absolutely certain that this was where an important artifact like one-half of your old master’s soul would be hidden.</p>
<p>He just had to get to it, somehow.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Harry tried to be subtle. He really did.</p>
<p>First, he tried sneaking in with his Cloak late at night. That was an immediate wash, since as soon as he touched the doorknob a wailing alarm went off, and he’d had to quickly stuff the Cloak into a nearby vase and pretend that he’d gotten lost on the way to the kitchen.</p>
<p>Next, he’d tried wandering in during the day, figuring he could stick to the ‘I’m an idiot’ excuse if he got caught. He got caught before he’d even managed to move the bookcase concealing the safe an inch. He’d made a hasty excuse about looking for more advanced curse books to practice with Draco, and had felt rather guilty when Mr. Malfoy wordlessly summoned a book from the library that had Marvolo practically cooing in delight.</p>
<p>Figuring that there was some sort of alarm on the study itself, he’d then lurked outside the door and attempted to cast a revealing spell at the wall. This had somehow failed dismally, despite Marvolo’s shrieked instructions. And then Lucius Malfoy had returned to his office and caught Harry skulking outside the door, doing his best to look innocent. This time, his excuse wasn’t accepted so readily.</p>
<p>“You should be more careful, Mr. Potter,” Draco’s dad said, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “A less forgiving wizard might think you were…up to something.”</p>
<p>Harry’s first instinct was to ask, probably incredulously, who these ‘less forgiving’ wizards might be. Then he thought of Professor Snape, and he shuddered, his own question answered. Luckily, Mr. Malfoy seemed to accept this as evidence that his warning had been heeded, and he swept inside the study, closing the door firmly behind him.</p>
<p>His third attempt was going to be another nighttime jaunt, in which he’d execute a daring entry into the office by Diffindo-ing the cubby wall to let him in. Then he’d use a borrowed broom to swoop into the study without stepping on the floor, levitate the bookcase out of the way, and then try all the usual password combinations on the safe until he could ransack it for Marvolo’s diary. Oh, and then he’d use Reparo to fix up the cubbyhole and cover up all traces of his entry.</p>
<p>It <i>would</i> have been a good plan, he was sure. It was probably only about fifty percent stupid, which was an immense improvement. It would have been good, that was, if Dobby hadn’t popped up as soon as he’d snuck into the cubby the next night, concealed once again by his Cloak. </p>
<p>“Mr. Harry Potter!” the house-elf squeaked.</p>
<p>“Ssh, not so loud!” he whispered frantically. Dobby clapped his hands over his mouth with an audible slapping noise, freezing in place. Harry looked around nervously. Had Mr. Malfoy placed a ward on the cubby, too? “What are you doing here, Dobby?” he whispered. “You can talk now,” he added hastily.</p>
<p>“Dobby is seeing the great wizard Harry Potter sneaking around Master Lucius’ study,” he whispered frantically. “But Harry Potter must not go into the study! Harry Potter will be in grave danger, because Master Lucius is-“</p>
<p>“It’s okay, I get what you mean,” Harry said hastily, before Dobby could call Mr. Malfoy a bad wizard and start freaking out again. “But Mr. Malfoy…he’s got something of my friend’s. I have to get it back, Dobby. It’s really important. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>“No, sir! Harry Potter will get caught!” Dobby said fearfully, wringing his reddened hands.</p>
<p>Harry checked down the corridor again. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, making him suspect that Dobby had followed him on his own. “Why are you so concerned about me, anyway?” he asked curiously.</p>
<p>The elf’s eyes welled with tears, but thankfully, he kept his voice down. “Harry Potter does not know what it was like, before he slew the-the evil wizard…he does not know what it meant for the downtrodden, the enslaved, the weak and despised…”</p>
<p>Something uncomfortable turned over in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He stared at Dobby’s ragged clothing, the healing nicks on his ears; the way the joints of his fingers looked inflamed and raw. “Did anything change for you, Dobby?” he whispered.</p>
<p>The house-elf just stared at him hopelessly. A tear trickled down his face, dangling on the tip of his long nose. Harry opened his mouth – to say what, he wasn’t sure; some sort of cold comfort, perhaps – when the elf straightened his back again, determination filling his features. “If sir will tell Dobby,” he whispered, “then Dobby will retrieve it for him, this thing he is looking for. Then Harry Potter will not be caught. Harry Potter will be safe!”</p>
<p><i>Oh, thank Merlin,</i> Marvolo hissed in a bored tone. <i>I hate to say it, Potter, but the wretched creature is probably more competent than you. Which isn’t saying much, really.</i></p>
<p>But Harry knew that even if he would be fine, Dobby would not be safe. “You know what?” he said abruptly, rising from the cubby. “It’s nothing, actually. It was just a lark. I was just trying to get in on a dare. Sorry, Dobby, for making you worry for nothing.”</p>
<p>
  <i>Potter, you IDIOT. What are you DOING?</i>
</p>
<p><i>The right thing,</i> he snapped as he fled down the corridor, unwilling to meet Dobby’s uncomprehending stare. <i>Something you’re allergic to, as far as I can tell.</i></p>
<p><i>The stupid thing, you mean!</i> Marvolo raged. <i>You idiot boy! You know what is at stake! How can you aspire to be a Dark Lord if you cannot sacrifice anything?</i></p>
<p><i>I can be an overlord,</i> Harry insisted, slipping back into the Malfoy’s guest bedroom. <i>I can, and I will. I’ve got us this far, haven’t I? You’re just going to have to trust me.</i></p>
<p>Marvolo snorted bitterly. <i>Do </i>you<i> trust me, Potter?</i></p>
<p>Harry thought about it for a second. Sure, Marvolo was a bit of a homicidal lunatic. And sure, he was probably plotting to betray him as soon as he got free of Harry’s skull.</p>
<p>But Marvolo was also his friend. He’d been there when nobody else had been. And he’d been kinder than he had to, at times, even if he’d deny it if asked; even if he scorned the very notion of kindness, and threw the most melodramatic tantrums, and whined incessantly about those happy days when he’d been a maniacal despot-</p>
<p><i>Yeah,</i> Harry thought. <i>Yeah, I do.</i></p>
<p><i>Then you truly are a fool,</i> Marvolo snapped. He retreated back into the recesses of Harry’s mind, shutting himself off completely.</p>
<p>That didn’t mean Harry was going to give up. He was going to try harder. He’d prove to Marvolo that he deserved the status of Best Minion more than Draco’s dad ever had.</p>
<p>And that meant resorting to new lows.</p>
<p>At dinner the next day, he saw his opportunity when Mr. Malfoy ordered Dobby to fetch them more salt.</p>
<p>“Gee, that sure takes me back,” Harry said brightly. “Did you know that chimeras actually get really sick if they have too much salt in their diet?”</p>
<p><i>What are you doing, Potter?</i> Marvolo asked suspiciously.</p>
<p>“Wait, so you can kill chimeras with salt?” Draco said, wrinkling his nose. “That’s kind of lame.”</p>
<p>“I know, right? So if you’re feeding them something like, say, your worst minions, you’ve got to be really careful not to give them too many, or they’ll just gorge themselves and make a gigantic mess all over your lair.”</p>
<p>Mr. Malfoy’s fork clattered against his plate. Draco and Narcissa turned to look at him, but he picked it up again as if nothing had happened, his face utterly expressionless. “Such crudities should hardly be discussed at the dinner table, Mr. Potter,” he said icily.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you have a lair already, Harry!” Draco exclaimed excitedly.</p>
<p>Harry felt his cheeks heating up slightly. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” he said defensively.</p>
<p>“Building a base of power is a standard enough ambition,” Lucius Malfoy said, ignoring Narcissa’s hissed ‘Dear!’. “But you should ensure, Mr. Potter, that your reach does not exceed your grasp.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” Harry said boldly. “I will.”</p>
<p>That sort of killed the dinner conversation, which Harry felt a bit bad about. In deference to Draco and Narcissa, who he rather liked, he kept his subtle hints limited to just one per meal. After his initial reluctance, Marvolo had taken to the idea like a duck to water, offering a veritable litany of disturbing memories that Harry could reference around Lucius to try and reveal his ‘true’ identity. </p>
<p>And so Harry’s time at the Manor passed, almost as a blur. The days were spent hanging out with Draco – and, on occasion, Pansy, who proved herself able to do the most hilarious imitations of their professors and classmates. The evenings were spent making veiled innuendos to Lucius Malfoy, who looked more and more like he wanted to physically wrap his hands around Harry’s throat and strangle him with every passing day. </p>
<p>And then there were only two days left until Harry had to go back to Hogwarts, and he was still no closer to his goal than before. Plus he now had another name to add to the list of people who wanted to kill him.</p>
<p>That was when his final, desperate plan came to him, in a brilliant stroke of good insanity.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Thanks for escorting me back to Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said, giving Draco’s dad his best innocent smile.</p>
<p>“My son insisted that I accompany you,” Lucius Malfoy said disdainfully. “And, now that we are past the gates-“</p>
<p>This was it. The moment of truth. “Actually, there’s something you have to see,” Harry said. “Something Dumbledore’s been hiding from you.”</p>
<p>Mr. Malfoy’s eyes shuttered. “Oh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry said, laying it on thick. He began walking as he spoke, so that Mr. Malfoy had no choice but to follow him across the lawns. “He’s planning on apprenticing me, you know. So he’s shown me loads of his secrets. And there’s one in particular that I think the Board will be <i>very</i> interested in.”</p>
<p>“As <i>interesting</i> as I am sure this…secret…is,” Mr. Malfoy said, voice dripping with scorn, “I suggest you deal with it on your own.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll just tell another member of the Board,” Harry said, shrugging, “and they’ll have the leg up on Dumbledore, not you. I thought I’d give you first dibs since you’re Draco’s dad. But, if you don’t want to know…”</p>
<p>A flash of frustration passed across Lucius Malfoy’s face. But, just as Harry had hoped, the opportunity was just too good for him to pass up. “Very well,” he said curtly, striding forward. “But make it quick.”</p>
<p>“It’s just a little further,” Harry said. “Just this way-“</p>
<p>“The Forbidden Forest?” Mr. Malfoy said sharply. “What could you possibly claim is being concealed in there?”</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” Harry said mysteriously. Using every bit of skill he’d learned dodging Dudley, he suddenly broke into a run, dashing deeper into the Forest. Once again, his gamble paid off. Whether due to his curiosity or the knowledge of how much trouble he’d be in if the famous Harry Potter got eaten on his watch, Lucius Malfoy followed after him, cursing all the way.</p>
<p>Harry had never intended to run very far, though. Mr. Malfoy burst into the clearing in which he waited in short order, his wand drawn. “This game ends now,” he hissed. <i>”Im-“</i></p>
<p>That was when Slinky, right on cue, slithered up behind Harry and nudged him fondly with her head, her eyes shut. *Master!*</p>
<p>*Slinky!* he said enthusiastically, patting her scales. *How’s your summer been?*</p>
<p>A loud thump sounded behind him as Lucius Malfoy’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell in a dead faint to the grassy clearing floor.</p>
<p>The boy and the basilisk stared at his crumpled form with varying degrees of consternation.</p>
<p>*Can I eat him?* Slinky asked hopefully.</p>
<p>Harry sighed, folding his arms.</p>
<p>This was going to be a very long day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And with that, we take a step away from the serious and towards the Sirius! Harry's summer is almost over, and I suspect he'll have his hands full with Marvolo and whatever denizens have stayed behind at Hogwarts for the year :D</p>
<p>Once again, a huge thanks to Duinemerwen, who helped work out the timing and sequence of events for Grand Theft Diary and the Lucius/Dumbledore argument. Without her, you would have a lot more sloth and a lot less chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Standard Is Set</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry sighed again as he stared down at Lucius Malfoy’s unconscious form. “Sorry about this,” he said apologetically as he motioned Slinky forward. He didn’t know how much time they would have before Dumbledore came looking for Harry, and he couldn’t afford to wait for Draco’s dad to wake up on his own.</p>
<p>He covered his nose as Slinky opened her mouth and exhaled a long stream of millennium-old breath into Mr. Malfoy’s face. The unfortunate elder Malfoy groaned as he stirred back to life, coughing and gagging. His eyes widened to nearly Dobby-like proportions as he stared at the basilisk’s face, mere inches from his own.</p>
<p>“Erm,” Harry said. “Well, this is awkward.”</p>
<p>The color drained from Mr. Malfoy’s features. He attempted to bow as best as he could from his seated position, twisting to the side in an effort to avoid Slinky. “M-my lord-“</p>
<p>“Don’t say my name,” Harry said hurriedly, before Marvolo could start shrieking dire warnings again. “In fact, it’s probably best if you don’t tell anyone at all about me. Especially not Draco and Narcissa. And don’t even think about giving out any subtle hints, either.”</p>
<p>Harry had thought that Mr. Malfoy would definitely object to keeping his family out of the loop. Surprisingly, he seemed all too eager to comply, his shoulders visibly sagging with relief. “I thank you for your mercy, my lord. I-I have been loyal to you…I have infiltrated the Ministry; I used my influence to keep many of your minions from Azkaban. I will prove myself worthy and useful to you, Lord.” He trailed off, shoulders stiffening up with tension as if he was waiting to receive a curse. Knowing Marvolo, he probably was.</p>
<p>“Right. Yes,” Harry said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Good job staying out of prison.”</p>
<p><i>Malice, Potter! Project a chilling aura of malice to appropriately cow your subordinates! Do I have to remember </i>everything<i> around here?</i></p>
<p>Harry grimaced, which seemed to have the appropriate effect on Mr. Malfoy. “I have several tasks for you to prove your worthiness, my loyal servant,” he said imperiously, repeating the words he’d been rehearsing in his head for the past couple of days. “Render unto me my malevolently foul dark diary, for starters.”</p>
<p>“Y-yes, my lord! I will fetch it for you at once!”</p>
<p>“And, after you do that,” Harry continued, “I’d like you to track down another dark and glorious artifact that I gave to Bellatrix. Since you’re not in prison, and all.” He attempted an evil cackle, but it came out sounding like rather more of a high-pitched titter instead. He clamped his jaw shut, horrified.</p>
<p>For some reason, this failure seemed to terrify Draco’s father even more. “At once, my lord,” he said, executing another sideways bow. “If I may ask – where may I find this artifact?”</p>
<p>Harry paused, waiting for his friend to supply an answer. The seconds ticked by. <i>Uh, Marvolo?</i></p>
<p><i>Everybody always acts as though I know all about Bellatrix, just because she’s the most delightfully insane and malicious and wonderful minion I have,</i> Marvolo grumbled. <i>But I’ll have you know that my punishments are </i>far<i> more creative-</i></p>
<p><i>Okay, okay, you’re cooler and more original than Bellatrix, I get it,</i> Harry thought desperately. <i>Can you </i>please<i> just give me some ideas, before Mr. Malfoy comes to his senses and hexes us?</i></p>
<p><i>A fiery chasm, deep within the bowels of the earth,</i> Marvolo said promptly. <i>The actual bowels of a dragon. A cursed box, within a cursed box, within another cursed box, within-</i></p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat again, turning back to Mr. Malfoy. “I’d start with the worst possible place imaginable, and go from there.”</p>
<p>“Yes, my lord,” Mr. Malfoy said, somewhat glumly. “Is there anything else that you desire?”</p>
<p>Harry opened his mouth to dismiss him, but then paused. “Well, actually, there is <i>one</i> thing…”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Harry Potter, sir!” A pair of thin, knobby arms wrapped around Harry’s knees, squeezing tightly before their owner released him in favor of practically skipping about with joy. “Dobby knew that Harry Potter was the greatest and kindest of all wizards, but he had never imagined that the honorable Harry Potter would set Dobby <i>free</i> from…from the bad wizards!” The house elf paused, cringing for a moment in anticipation of a forced punishment. When nothing happened after a few seconds, a wide, infectious grin spread across Dobby’s features.</p>
<p>“That’s great, Dobby!” Harry smiled back at the tiny elf. Dobby already looked a million times better than he had while in the Malfoy household. The perpetual look of worry was gone, for one, and the silken kerchief that Mr. Malfoy had presumably freed him with was tied carefully around his neck like a fancy scarf. “What are you going to do now?”</p>
<p>Dobby’s ears drooped slightly before he straightened, resolute. “Dobby will find work, sir! But as a free elf, with-with no master, and one day off every year, and maybe even…wages!”</p>
<p><i>Pay a house-elf?</i> Marvolo asked incredulously. <i>The creature truly is mad. What sort of idiot would actually</i> hire- He cut himself off abruptly with a sharp hiss. <i>Oh, for Merlin’s sake.</i></p>
<p>“So, Dobby,” Harry said cautiously, not wanting to offend the elf. “Um, you don’t have to say yes or anything, and I get if you want to look around for a new job first, but…do you want to be my minion?”</p>
<p>Dobby’s jaw dropped. “Harry Potter wants Dobby to work for <i>him?”</i> He looked to be on the verge of tears again.</p>
<p>“Sorry if that was offensive, I just-“</p>
<p>“Dobby accepts!” The house elf drew himself up. “But Dobby will be paid one sickle, sir!”</p>
<p>“Er,” Harry said, somewhat confused. “You mean, like, one sickle per hour?”</p>
<p>“No, sir!” Dobby said, horrified. “Dobby is a good elf, sir! Dobby will not work for more than one sickle a month!”</p>
<p>“What?! Dobby, I don’t know how much normal minions get paid or anything, but I was thinking more like a Galleon a day when you’re working, and ten percent of any assets we seize from gleefully wreaking disproportionate retribution on our enemies-“</p>
<p>
  <i>Ten percent?!</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Look, Marvolo-</i>
</p>
<p><i>TEN PERCENT?</i> Marvolo shrieked.</p>
<p><i>Look, of all the other goons I’ve got, two of them are yours, one’s just pretending to be my thug for appearance’s sake, and I’m pretty sure that Hagrid doesn’t even </i>know<i> he’s a minion in the first place,</i> Harry explained. <i>That makes Dobby my Best Minion by default-</i></p>
<p><i>A house-elf, a half-giant, and a Mud-</i>Muggleborn, Marvolo said sullenly. <i>Those are not minions, Potter. That is a punch line.</i></p>
<p>Harry scowled. Sure, Dobby wasn’t nearly as inherently terrifying as a basilisk, or even Mr. Malfoy, but Harry was willing to bet that Marvolo wouldn’t be quite so dismissive if Dobby were to sneak into their enemies’ houses and spike their tea with Bubotuber pus.</p>
<p>In the end, he managed to bargain Dobby up to a Galleon a week, and time off on request, although Harry rather suspected that these requests would be rare. He was initially a bit worried about where Dobby would stay – he wasn’t about to send the house elf to Marvolo’s shack, after all. Luckily, Dumbledore kindly agreed to let Dobby stay with the other Hogwarts house-elves as long as he could help out during the school year, which the excitable elf was only too happy to accept.</p>
<p>The rest of Harry’s summer went by in a pleasant, though largely uneventful haze. During the day, Harry explored the castle, hung out with Hagrid, attended the occasional meeting with Dumbledore, and slowly made his way through his backlog of curse compendiums and Potions journals. In the evenings, he buried his head in his hands while Marvolo lied, cajoled, and eventually degenerated into shrieking vile imprecations at his Horcruxes in an attempt to rejoin with them. Evidently, whatever brief remorse he’d felt over his life choices wasn’t enough to reabsorb these larger bits of soul. Harry was starting to think that the first merger had been some sort of fluke, since Marvolo’s sanity really wasn’t showing any signs of improvement.</p>
<p>Mr. Malfoy continued to send him increasingly nervous missives detailing his search for the Cup. Idly, Harry began to wonder exactly <i>how</i> powerful Marvolo had been while he was still alive. Sure, he wasn’t always the most competent fellow, and the less said about his worldly possessions, the better. But he seemed to have a lot of minions, many of whom couldn’t really be called low-profile. Surely someone of his calibre would at least merit a footnote in <i>The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts?</i> But no matter how hard Harry looked for his name, he couldn’t find a single mention of him.</p>
<p>He would probably have been more concerned about that particular dilemma if Dumbledore hadn’t proven himself to be equally evasive on the subject of Sirius Black. After two weeks of headlines in the <i>Daily Prophet</i> proclaiming that the search for the escaped convict had been utterly fruitless so far, Harry had suggested to the Headmaster that Black might have done the smart thing and fled to another country instead of sticking around in a probably doomed attempt to murder the most protected person in all of Britain. </p>
<p>Strangely, although Dumbledore was utterly convinced that Sirius Black was definitely going to come after Harry, his explanations as to why got vaguer and vaguer every time Harry pressed him for details. And, just like his search for entries about Marvolo, all the information he could find about Sirius Black in books and papers told him little more than what Dumbledore had already said. Harry glumly resolved to ask Hermione for help when she returned to Hogwarts. Clearly, his library researching skills were horribly subpar.</p>
<p>“D’you think Slinky could help keep an eye out for Sirius Black?” he asked Hagrid one afternoon, following a particularly frustrating lecture from Dumbledore.</p>
<p>He’d expected Hagrid to say yes, but it seemed that he’d somehow managed to hit on the one thing that Hagrid actually thought was a bad idea. “Not everyone’d bother ter unnerstand Slinky before reactin’,” he warned Harry. “Yeh’d be in real trouble if someone were ter find ‘er.”</p>
<p>Harry’s shoulders sagged. “But there’s got to be <i>something</i> we can do,” he insisted. “I feel like a right prat, just sitting here waiting for some deranged convict to come after me. Why does Sirius Black even care if I exist, anyway?”</p>
<p>A thunderous expression came over the groundskeeper’s face. He set down his mug with a forceful clink. “Yeh listen t’me, Harry,” he said, quite seriously. “Black is a very bad man, an’ yeh’re not t’go after ‘im-“</p>
<p>“But <i>why-“</i></p>
<p>“’E’s an evil traitor, tha’s why!” Hagrid burst out. “Promise me yeh won’ go lookin’ for him!”</p>
<p>“All right,” Harry said carefully. “I promise <i>I</i> won’t go looking for him.”</p>
<p>“Yeh’re a good lad, Harry,” Hagrid said fiercely, sweeping him up into a hug. “A good lad.”</p>
<p>Technically, asking Slinky to patrol the Forbidden Forest for any intruders wasn’t <i>looking</i> for Black, per se, so Harry figured he was in the clear on that count. Slinky had offered to search the school, as well – she could apparently fit through the pipes, which boggled Harry’s mind – but Hagrid’s dire warnings rang in his ears, and he decided that it was probably best not to risk it. After all, he was still half-convinced that Sirius Black probably wasn’t going to show up, anyways.</p>
<p>Before he knew it, his summer had come to an utterly unproductive end, and another year at Hogwarts had begun.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Although Neville was the only one of his friends who’d vaguely mentioned the manhunt for Harry in his letters over the summer, it turned out that gossip spread faster than Fiendfyre. Practically the entire Slytherin table eyed Harry with speculative looks at the Welcoming Feast, and he caught several students from the other Houses peering over at him and whispering amongst themselves.</p>
<p>“Glad you’re not dead,” Crabbe grunted as he piled a generous dollop of gravy onto his plate.</p>
<p>“Again,” Goyle added, not to be outdone with his mountain of roasted turkey.</p>
<p>“Thanks, guys,” Harry said, oddly touched.</p>
<p>“So, what’s this about you vanishing at the beginning of the hols, anyways?” Tracey Davis looked almost alarmingly interested. Harry stared nervously at her hands, wondering if she was concealing her poison pen somewhere on her person. “That Ravenclaw girl, Jones, was telling everyone how a whole <i>squadron</i> of Aurors was sent to look for you!”</p>
<p>“The same Aurors who were on the train this year?” an upper-year asked. To his discomfort, Harry noticed several other Slytherins turning their heads towards them, taking note of the conversation.</p>
<p>“Maybe. Everyone’s talking about it. Is that why you weren’t on the Express with the rest of us, Harry?” </p>
<p>To his immense gratitude, Pansy stepped up to defend him. “Don’t talk such nonsense, Tracey,” she said dismissively. “Harry was at the Malfoy Manor this summer, as you’d know if you’d been invited to visit.” She nudged Draco with her elbow. “Isn’t that right, Draco?”</p>
<p>“What?” Draco looked up from his tart, clearing his throat at Pansy’s pointed look. “Yes, of course,” he said pompously. “Obviously.” He darted his eyes at Harry to quickly check whether he’d agreed to anything strange; seeing no alarm in Harry’s features, he shrugged and went back to his dessert.</p>
<p>“But-“ Tracey began, frowning.</p>
<p>“I hear congratulations are in order, Blaise,” Pansy said, steamrolling over Tracey’s protests. </p>
<p>Blaise scowled. “Yes,” he said unenthusiastically. “Yet another new stepfather. Hurrah. Want to bet on how long this one’s going to last?”</p>
<p>“Three months,” Draco said instantly.</p>
<p>“Don’t be <i>crass,</i> Draco,” Pansy snapped. “Anything less than six would be unseemly.”</p>
<p>“Thirteen point six months,” Theo said. “Can’t go wrong with averages,” he added by way of explanation.</p>
<p>Even Blaise agreed that this seemed eminently sensible, and the conversation switched to lighter topics. Draco passed on his formal thanks for finally persuading his father to get rid of ‘that insane house-elf’, and Pansy deftly switched the topic whenever anyone tried to bring it back to Harry’s disappearance, verbally flaying a couple of unfortunates who failed to get the hint. Harry gave her a grateful smile, resolving to get her something special for her upcoming birthday.</p>
<p>The adults in his life, however, proved to be nowhere near as understanding as his friends.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Practically every one of Harry’s professors – and even some he didn’t know – seemed to have heard something about what had happened at the beginning of the summer. Luckily, Dumbledore hadn’t given them all the details about what exactly had happened with his relatives, but everyone knew that <i>something</i> had gone wrong, and provided excessive sympathy and curious probing in equal measure. </p>
<p>Professor McGonagall in particular got uncomfortably close to the truth, mentioning over biscuits and tea that she’d told Dumbledore that the Dursleys were the ‘worst sort of Muggles’. Harry had thought that he might have felt better, hearing a reasonably sane adult slag his relatives. Instead, he just felt worse and worse, knowing that he’d never be able to tell anyone the real reason why they’d been so scared of him.</p>
<p>Even the Aurors they’d assigned to protect the school got in on the action. Auror Tonks, a friendly woman with light blonde hair, seemed to be all right. The rest of them, however, looked at Harry as if they expected him to either pull Sirius Black out of his pocket or drop dead on the spot. The paranoid one who looked like he’d been mauled by one of Slinky’s cousins was the worst of the lot. If he jumped out at Harry one more time while screaming ‘CONSTANT VIGILANCE!’, Harry was probably going to end up cursing him with one of Marvolo’s spells – and then he’d be in even more trouble than before, he reflected gloomily.</p>
<p>At first, the Defense Professor seemed like he’d be the one highlight of Harry’s otherwise dismal week. In just one lesson, Professor Lupin proved himself to be more competent than Lockhart and Quirrell combined, and far more interesting as well. Harry and Draco picked up the Disarming Charm almost right away, earning them five points each for Slytherin; they already knew the Body-Bind curse as well, and earned even more points by helping their friends with their spellwork. Pleased with their progress, Professor Lupin announced his intention to have them pair up for some mock duels the next class, in which they’d have to try to get a Body-Bind off before their opponent could disarm them. If that wasn’t cool enough, he <i>also</i> assigned no homework other than spell practice, instantly cementing him as the most popular professor among the second-years.</p>
<p>“If you would stay behind a moment after class, Harry?” Professor Lupin asked him.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Harry said instantly. He waited impatiently for his classmates to file out before blurting out: “You knew my mum and dad, didn’t you? You’re in the photo album Headmaster Dumbledore gave me,” he added, seeing the surprised look the professor gave him. “I read the notes you wrote about the photos loads of times, too!”</p>
<p>Lupin smiled, although there was a sadness to it, as if the memories brought him pain. “I’m glad they brought you joy, Harry.”</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose you’ve got more stories about them?” Harry asked hopefully. “I mean – if it’s not a bother, or anything...”</p>
<p>Professor Lupin hesitated. “Perhaps later?” Evidently, Harry wasn’t able to conceal his disappointment as well as he’d thought he could, since he flashed a strained smile and added: “I do have many stories to tell about your parents, Harry, but…there are many holes in them, you see, left behind by those who are no longer with us.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” The worst part was, after an entire week of being reminded about what had happened with the Dursleys, Harry knew exactly what Lupin was talking about. And, like the professor, he didn’t want to think about those holes in the slightest. “All right. Later, then.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Lupin paused for a moment, then said: “Would you like some chocolate, Harry?”</p>
<p>He didn’t think he could stand even one more round of sympathy. But just as he was trying to figure out how to tactfully turn Lupin down without making him think that he was punishing him for not talking about Harry’s parents, he was saved by Auror Scrimgeour’s entrance. Scrimgeour gave Harry a cursory nod, but for once, his gimlet gaze was focused on somebody other than Harry.</p>
<p>“Um, maybe next time, sir,” Harry said, retrieving his bookbag from his desk.</p>
<p>“Yes.” Lupin smiled, a little wanly. “Next time.”</p>
<p>Harry scurried out, just in time to hear Scrimgeour growl: “Thought you’d finish off your school chum’s job for him, eh?” It sounded so hostile that Harry hesitated, wondering whether or not he should go back inside, but the door closed behind him, cutting off Lupin’s mild response, and it was too late.</p>
<p>With the way his week had been going, it was hardly a surprise when Snape cornered him in the hallway after dinner. “Potter,” he growled.</p>
<p>“Hello, Professor,” Harry said politely. “How was your summer?”</p>
<p>“Tolerable, in the absence of <i>children,”</i> Snape sneered. “I need not ask you how <i>your</i> summer went, of course.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry echoed. “Of course.”</p>
<p>To his surprise, Snape didn’t go for the obvious opening. “Lucius Malfoy,” he said, “is an inveterate gossip. Were you aware of this, Potter?”</p>
<p>Harry felt sweat prickling on his brow. He’d <i>told</i> Mr. Malfoy not to say anything. “Um,” he said. ‘It was an accident’ probably wasn’t going to cut it as an excuse this time. “Not really, sir?”</p>
<p>Snape grunted. “I received quite the stream of missives while you were at the Manor. Apparently, Lucius was quite convinced that you were a spy sent by Dumbledore to stealthily rifle through his private study, like some sort of hooligan.” He cast a dark look at Harry.</p>
<p>“And you told him I wasn’t a hooligan?” Harry said hopefully.</p>
<p>“I told him that the idea of you being able to construct any sort of subtle plan was as ludicrous as the thought of the Malfoys entering penury.”</p>
<p>“So you told him I wasn’t that <i>sort</i> of hooligan,” Harry said brightly.</p>
<p>Snape leaned forward, his glare intensifying. “Imagine my surprise, then, Potter,” he hissed, “when Lucius Malfoy subsequently shut his mouth for the first time in his life, retracted all of his accusations about you, and then refused to speak a single word about so much as a twig on your broomstick when asked. Why do you think that would be, Potter?”</p>
<p><i>Whatever you do, don’t think of the basilisk,</i> Marvolo advised him.</p>
<p>Slinky’s face instantly filled his mind. <i>Shut up, Marvolo!</i> </p>
<p>He focused very hard on Snape’s nose. It wasn’t a difficult task. “No idea, sir,” he said, as innocently as possible.</p>
<p>“One might think,” Snape said silkily, “if one was not a dunderheaded idiot, that is, that this mystery may be related to your equally unbelievable cover story for your disappearance at the beginning of the summer.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Harry’s shoulders drooped as he stared down at the floor. Any second now, Snape was going to ask about what had happened with the Dursleys, just like everyone else. But, unlike everyone else, Snape was going to <i>know</i> that Harry was lying to his face. He was going to know all about what had happened, and then-</p>
<p>“Plausible deniability, Potter,” Snape said. “Have you heard of it?”</p>
<p>Harry gaped at him in astonishment. “I-what?”</p>
<p>Snape rolled his eyes. “I would get you a dictionary, Potter, but I fear that it would be wasted effort.”</p>
<p>Snape <i>wasn’t going to ask him.</i> Harry fought to keep himself from grinning as a warm, happy feeling of gratitude spread throughout his chest. “Yes, sir!”</p>
<p>“Don’t sound so bloody happy,” Snape snapped. “That was not a compliment.”</p>
<p>“Right. Yes, sir,” Harry said, nodding fervently. “Because that would be implausible. I get it.”</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Potter.” Snape’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he motioned Harry away with a gesture. “And by the way, Petunia was a spiteful, bitter coward, and her opinions are as worthless now as they were then.”</p>
<p>“Wait!” Harry cried out, whirling around. “You-you knew my aunt?”</p>
<p>“Unfortunately.” Snape grimaced. “As children.”</p>
<p>Harry’s jaw dropped again. “You were a child?!” he asked, aghast. “I thought you sprung fully formed from the ether to torment schoolkids-“ He clapped his hands over his mouth, horrified.</p>
<p>Snape gave him an expressionless stare. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter. One point from Slytherin,” he added, turning on his heel.</p>
<p>Had that been a hint of a smile? “For flattery?”</p>
<p>“For existing!”</p>
<p>Harry smiled all the way back to the common room. Marvolo grumbled for the rest of the night about how sentimental Snape had gotten in his old age, but Harry didn’t care.</p>
<p>Maybe, if everyone else was as nice as Snape was, this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah, Harry and his low, low standards. But Harry probably isn't the one we should be feeling bad for. Poor Snape has no idea what he's unleashed...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Furry Little Problem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>During their next Defense class, an Auror was present in the room.</p>
<p>Dawlish wasn’t Harry’s favorite, among the Aurors who had been sent to guard Hogwarts – that honor definitely went to Tonks, who was probably the only one who treated Harry like a person – but he seemed stoic enough. Still, even Dawlish eyed Lupin with suspicion, if not the rabid paranoia of Scrimgeour or the generalized, equal-opportunity paranoia of Moody. </p>
<p>It was odd enough to inspire plenty of gossip among the Slytherins. Before one had been stationed in Lupin’s classroom, the Aurors had followed a fairly basic schedule: one of the Aurors would follow Harry between his classes and anywhere that wasn’t the loo or the Slytherin dorms, while the others would alternate between guarding Hogwarts’ entry points and patrolling the hallways. </p>
<p>This presented several obvious problems for an aspiring dark lord. Luckily, the Aurors didn’t follow Harry into the dorms or his classrooms; however, their presence made sneaking away to see Slinky all but impossible, and he had to always watch his mouth to make sure he didn’t accidentally say anything incriminating. Harry thanked his lucky stars every day that he had Dobby to help him with sending covert messages to Hagrid and Lucius Malfoy. He could only imagine the look on Mr. Malfoy’s face when Harry’s letters mysteriously appeared on the floor of his study. He hoped that it added to his woefully lacking aura of mystique.</p>
<p>Despite the Aurors’ misgivings, Harry still instinctively wanted to believe the best of Lupin. He had been friends with Harry’s parents, after all. Unfortunately, Pansy brought his wishful thinking to an abrupt end after spending a day ferreting out information among the upper-year and first-year students.</p>
<p>“There’s an Auror in the first-year Defense lecture on Thursday mornings, and in the fifth-year extra practical on Monday afternoons,” Pansy said without preamble as she pulled out the chair next to Harry, barely remembering to lower her voice so that they wouldn’t get kicked out of the library.</p>
<p>Blaise got the reference instantly. “So they’ve only got Aurors guarding Lupin around the times when Harry’s got class?”</p>
<p>“Which means they think Lupin’s dangerous to me, specifically,” Harry said, frowning. He couldn’t imagine how the mild-mannered professor could possibly pose any sort of threat. Marvolo had never heard of him, and besides, he really didn’t seem like an incurably criminal type of person.</p>
<p>Pansy let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, but nobody seems to know exactly why. It’s terribly frustrating. Especially since not knowing could pose such a <i>danger</i> to you, Harry. Assuming it’s not just paranoia, of course?”</p>
<p>All four of them turned to look expectantly at Moody, who was lurking behind a bookcase several meters away. The Auror poked his head out, his false eye whirring around in its tireless sweep of the room. “It’s not paranoia, Potter,” he growled. The Slytherins perked up, leaning forward in anticipation of learning Lupin’s secret. “It’s not paranoia if they really <i>are</i> out to get you.”</p>
<p>Moody grinned widely and slid back behind the bookcase, looking very pleased with himself, as Harry and his friends sighed in disappointment. Draco went so far as to let out a loud groan, earning them a glare from Madam Pince. </p>
<p>Marvolo joined the chorus, scoffing derisively. <i>Do you think he’s just bluffing?</i> Harry asked tentatively.</p>
<p><i>Obviously,</i> Marvolo said, letting out a dismissive cackle. <i>These so-called Aurors are all idiots and incompetents. This fool, Moody, claims to be some sort of expert in dark wizard detection, and he can’t even </i>see<i> me! Ha! How utterly pathetic-</i></p>
<p>Moody abruptly shot out from behind the bookcase once again, both of his eyes zeroing in on Harry. Marvolo let out a high-pitched shriek and valiantly retreated from the forefront of Harry’s mind. “Forgot something, Potter?”</p>
<p>Harry sighed. “Constant vigilance, sir,” he said, somewhat glumly.</p>
<p>“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Moody bellowed approvingly.</p>
<p>“QUIET IN THE LIBRARY!” Pince screeched from her desk, drowning out Moody’s voice completely.</p>
<p>“We’ll ask Tonks instead, next time we see her,” Harry whispered. “Honestly, I’m starting to think she’s the only one of the lot who isn’t barmy.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>To Harry’s surprise, Draco bowed out of the interrogation, muttering something about having to wash his hair. “Well, that was weird,” he said, scratching his head as he watched Draco retreat around the corner. “Hey, Neville, do you want to come talk to Auror Tonks with us?”</p>
<p>“A-an Auror?” Neville looked slightly less nervous than usual, although it was hard to tell. “I don’t mind, but...what for?”</p>
<p>“Tonks is nice, but I guess I’d just like to have some backup,” Harry admitted. “You know, in case things go south.”</p>
<p>“But Tonks is an <i>Auror,”</i> Neville said. “I mean, th-there’s no reason for you to worry if she’s around, right?” </p>
<p>“Erm,” Harry said, visions of the Horcruxes in his trunk, the basilisk in the forest, and the evil dark wizard in his head flashing behind his eyes. “Right. No reason at all.”</p>
<p>Pansy and Blaise exchanged a knowing look. “I’m glad you’re here, Longbottom,” Pansy said sweetly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to help us convince Tonks, in Draco’s place. Just stand there and look soulful, that’s the ticket.”</p>
<p>“S-soulful?” Neville looked a little scared. “How am I supposed to look soulful? And why?” he added after a moment of consideration.</p>
<p>“We’re hoping you can make Tonks feel sorry for us so that she’ll tell us all of Lupin’s secrets,” Blaise drawled.</p>
<p>Neville looked even more nervous than before. “B-but-“</p>
<p>“Abject terror will probably work, too,” Pansy declared brightly. “Come along, boys!”</p>
<p>But, despite Harry and Neville’s best attempts at pitiable expressions, Tonks was oddly reluctant to tell them anything. The only tidbit that they managed to glean from her was that she seemed to think that her fellow Aurors were overreacting. “Dumbledore wouldn’t have hired him if there was any real danger, innit?” she said, folding her arms. “And it’s not like he comes across as-“ She caught herself before giving away any details, to Pansy’s visible disappointment. “-as the type Rufus keeps saying he is, you know.”</p>
<p>“That’s exactly what I told them!” Harry said triumphantly, forgetting to look put-upon for a moment. Still, he could sense Tonks wavering. “I mean, Auror Scrimgeour practically foams at the mouth when he’s around poor Professor Lupin,” he said, laying it on thick. “Don’t you think it’d be better if people knew what he’s on about, so that he doesn’t keep making us afraid of someone who doesn’t deserve it?” He widened his eyes innocently, in a manner that always worked on Albus Dumbledore.</p>
<p>Tonks wrinkled her nose at him. “Don’t quit your day job, kid,” she said dryly. “Tell you what. Maybe I’ll switch with Rufus for a shift or two supervising his lessons, just for you. Only because you’re <i>so</i> concerned about Professor Lupin, and definitely <i>not</i> because you’re pumping me for information or anything, of course.”</p>
<p>“Yep,” Harry said, nodding fervently. “Totally altruistic, that’s me.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Pansy said haughtily. “We’ll just go off to lunch, then – taking poor, traumatized Harry with us, who’s simply <i>petrified</i> with fear because nobody will tell him anything about the horrid serial killer that’s stalking him. Good day,” she added frostily, turning on her heel.</p>
<p>“Toodles!” Tonks said, waving.</p>
<p>“Bit of a hard case, that one,” Blaise muttered, sneaking a glance back at the young Auror following them through the corridors. “She doesn’t even look phased in the slightest.”</p>
<p>An idea struck Harry as he saw the venomous scowl on Pansy’s face. “Don’t worry, guys,” he reassured his friends. “There’s someone else we can ask about Lupin.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Harry lingered at his workbench after Potions class, sidling up to Snape’s desk in a casual manner. Snape looked up from the row of Potions vials he was examining, his scowl deepening. “Potter.”</p>
<p>“Hello, Professor!” Harry said, beaming at him.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” Snape asked bluntly.</p>
<p>Straight to the point, then. “Everyone’s noticed that the Aurors really hate Lupin, but they won’t tell us why,” Harry said. “I was hoping you could tell us, instead?”</p>
<p>Snape’s face was unreadable. “And why would I do that, Potter?”</p>
<p>“Because you hate him, too.” This was probably the weakest part of Harry’s argument, considering that Snape seemed to very much want to hate Harry as well, but he figured that yesterday’s episode at the High Table – where Snape had nearly stabbed Lupin with his silverware when the Defense Professor had reached across him for the salt – had firmly placed Lupin a little higher on Snape’s hate hierarchy than Harry himself. </p>
<p>Snape was beginning to look murderous, so Harry quickly elaborated. “And if you were to tell us about him, I could tell Pansy, who will then say that she heard it from Michael Corner who heard it from Sally-Anne Perks who heard it from Millicent who heard it from Marvin Trent, so nobody will ever be able to trace it back to you!”</p>
<p>“There is no student named Marvin Trent at Hogwarts,” Snape said, eyes narrowing.</p>
<p>“Exactly!” Harry said triumphantly. “That’s what makes the plan foolproof!”</p>
<p>Snape stared at him, a look of faint horror on his features. “Of all the imbecilic – Potter, how in Merlin’s name have you managed to survive to adolescence?”</p>
<p>“I’m not really sure, sir,” Harry admitted. “Then again, Voldemort doesn’t really know, either, so that puts me in good company, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Deten-“ Snape paused, dark eyes glittering with suspicion. “Why do I have the feeling, Potter, that you do not see detention as any sort of effective deterrent?”</p>
<p>“It’s just that I’ve learned so much about plotting in detention,” Harry said apologetically. “And I really like your lessons on how not to die, especially considering that I <i>really</i> need them, you know.” In desperation, he tried hitting Snape with the wide-eyed look of innocence that had completely failed against Tonks. To his surprise, Snape flinched slightly, looking away.</p>
<p>“Detention, Potter,” he snapped. “Since you are so enamored of learning, you will be practicing the extraction of Bubotuber pus.” A faint smirk replaced his habitual scowl. “I am certain that it will…build character.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Harry said, his enthusiasm slightly dampened.</p>
<p>“I cannot, of course, reveal anything I may or may not know about that <i>beastly</i> Defense professor, as per our teaching contracts this year with Dumbledore,” Snape said smoothly as Harry turned to leave. “Nor can I caution students to avoid the accursed wretch rather than <i>moon</i> over him.”</p>
<p>Harry grinned victoriously as he left the classroom. At last, he had a Clue! He was pretty sure that Hermione would be able to put the pieces together-</p>
<p><i>Your education on Dark creatures really is woefully lacking,</i> Marvolo said scornfully.</p>
<p><i>Well, that’s your fault, isn’t it?</i> Harry pointed out.</p>
<p>Marvolo cackled in delight. <i>The curse is artistry in itself, Potter,</i> he said snobbily. <i>But that’s besides the point. It’s obvious that Lupin is a werewolf.</i></p>
<p><i>It is?!</i> Harry supposed that, in retrospect, the clues fit together. He was lucky that Marvolo knew Snape well enough to interpret his subtle hints. <i>But…I mean, he doesn’t seem dangerous, does he?</i></p>
<p>Marvolo snorted rudely. <i>Look at him, Potter. I’d be surprised if he could even bring himself to bite anything other than his scones at teatime. How utterly dull.</i> He paused thoughtfully. <i>Unless Dumbledore has him teach during the full moon, of course. That would be a nice, practical addition to the curriculum.</i></p>
<p>Tuning out Marvolo’s homicidal teaching suggestions, Harry observed Professor Lupin carefully in class the next day. His friend was right about Lupin not looking dangerous at all; indeed, Lupin was shabby, sickly-looking, and utterly unassuming in his demeanor. But Lupin was also kind, and very competent at his job. He was also one of the only professors who made a point to encourage the weaker students in his class, and genuinely smiled along with Neville when he finally managed to hit Seamus with the Body-Bind curse.</p>
<p>And, even though Lupin bore Scrimgeour’s constant scrutiny gracefully, there was no denying that he was definitely happier to have Tonks around. Auror Tonks even helped Lupin out, giving pointers to some of the students when Lupin was busy with others. By the end of the class, the professor looked far less world-weary than he had when the other Aurors were around, treating him like some sort of criminal.</p>
<p>Not quite trusting Marvolo’s biased knowledge of the subject, Harry slipped away to the library after class, pulling out several different books to cover up the fact that he was searching for information about werewolves. He frowned as he quickly scanned through the volumes he’d found. Lupin wasn’t some sort of rabid, sociopathic monster in his day-to-day life, as Emerett Picardy’s book proclaimed. And he wasn’t aggressive in the slightest, either. In fact, even though the books Harry found seemed horribly biased, it sounded like werewolves were more likely to hurt themselves than others while transformed, something that the visible scars on Lupin’s face seemed to bear out.</p>
<p>He felt a sudden, intense dislike for Rufus Scrimgeour. It was utterly stupid of the man to harass Lupin for something like that, especially when the Aurors had a <i>real</i> criminal to be searching for. He felt oddly disappointed in Snape, too. There had been a full moon over the weekend, after all, and Lupin obviously hadn’t gone on a rampage, or eaten anyone. So why did Snape act like Lupin had personally done something terrible to him?</p>
<p>Harry knew one thing, for sure. There was no way he could even hint to anyone that Lupin was a werewolf.</p>
<p>But, perhaps, there <i>was</i> something that he could do about Scrimgeour’s unfair discrimination against him.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>As it turned out, Bubotuber pus was strangely satisfying to extract, despite its inherent grossness. Snape seemed to be in high dudgeon, so Harry wisely concentrated on filling his assigned flasks with the green, strong-smelling substance. He was so absorbed in the task that he only belatedly realized that Snape had risen from his desk.</p>
<p>“Potter,” Snape said, his voice ominous. “Why is there an absurd rumor going around the school that Rufus Scrimgeour’s harassment of Lupin is entirely because he has found himself to be soul-bonded to an Inferius?”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir,” Harry said innocently, quite pleased to demonstrate that he’d taken Snape’s lesson on plausible deniability to heart. “You’d have to ask Marvin Trent.”</p>
<p>Snape’s eye twitched. “Do you even know what an Inferius is, Potter?”</p>
<p>“An excellent way to recycle one’s minions, sir?”</p>
<p>“Detention again next Saturday,” Snape snapped. “And two feet of parchment on the differences between Inferi and-“ Snape stopped, grimacing. “And a Dark creature associated with the lunar cycle, of your choice,” he said, looking like he’d swallowed a lemon.</p>
<p>“The lunar cycle,” Harry mused, thanking his lucky stars that Professor Snape already thought he was an idiot. Otherwise, this would undoubtedly be much harder. “You mean…a werewolf? But what does that have to do with Professor Lupin being an Inferius, sir?”</p>
<p>This was evidently the limit of what Snape could possibly tolerate. “Out, Potter!” he roared, gesturing towards the door.</p>
<p>Harry was already halfway out in the hallway, knowing the drill by now. “See you next week, sir!” he called over his shoulder as he left the classroom.</p>
<p>Severus Snape slumped back into his chair, burying his head in his hands. “Why me?” he said out loud, to nobody in particular.</p>
<p>But the merrily bubbling vials of Bubotuber pus were unable to provide a satisfactory answer.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>To his immense satisfaction, the rumor succeeded beyond Harry’s wildest dreams. Although the idea that Lupin was a member of the living dead was obvious lunacy, Tracey’s lurid additions had elevated the insinuations about Scrimgeour’s sanity to a new level of popularity, and Pansy had ensured that the rumor spread like wildfire among the student body. It had also apparently been great publicity for Tracey’s ongoing book sales, although Harry hastily excused himself before she could go into detail.</p>
<p>Tonks was now on semi-permanent duty in Lupin’s classroom, Scrimgeour was clearly primed and ready to kill literally anyone as long as they gave him an excuse, and Snape seemed to be determined to keep Harry in detention until he graduated, if only to ensure that he would survive until adulthood. As far as Harry was concerned, his problems were all but solved.</p>
<p>“Too right, Harry,” Draco said dryly when Harry happily regaled him with the story of his latest detention with Snape. “That really <i>does</i> sound like your problems are over. Who knows? Maybe Sirius Black will walk up to the castle and turn himself in before Quidditch tryouts next week.”</p>
<p>Harry snickered. “And maybe we’ll wake up and find our Transfiguration practicals magically done for us tomorrow morning.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, and Squibs will fly,” Draco snickered. “Anyways, do you think going for a Porskoff Ploy during tryouts might be too risky?”</p>
<p>Harry and Draco huddled together, discussing strategies, until Blaise chucked his pillow at them and threatened to hex them both if they kept talking. </p>
<p>When he woke up the next morning, he thought at first that he was still dreaming.</p>
<p>Because the stubborn, half-transformed pincushion that he’d left on his nightstand was now a perfect, animated hedgehog, enclosed in its very own cage.</p>
<p>“Hey, Draco!” Harry rapped on Draco’s bedpost. “Did you-“</p>
<p>“Ugh,” Draco complained. “Only peasants get up this early, Harry.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’re up now, too,” Harry pointed out, unable to resist responding to that.</p>
<p>“Don’t remind me,” Draco said, scowling. His expression changed as he caught sight of Harry’s hedgehog. “Oh, you got it, then! That really does look quite good. You’ll let me crib off you later, right?”</p>
<p>Harry frowned, puzzled. “Hang on. I thought that you-“</p>
<p>But once again, he was interrupted, this time by a knock on the door. It turned out to be Reyez, a fifth-year prefect whose exasperation was clearly written all over his face.</p>
<p>“Have you seen a wand?” he asked bluntly. “That idiot Harper’s lost his. Says he left it in the common room last night, of all places, and can’t find it.”</p>
<p>Crabbe and Goyle grunted in negation, and Blaise and Draco shook their heads. “Sorry, we haven’t seen it,” Harry said apologetically.</p>
<p>Reyez grunted. “Bloody first-years,” he grumbled, stalking off. “They get dumber every year, I tell you…”</p>
<p><i>Smart boy, that one,</i> Marvolo said approvingly.</p>
<p>Harry frowned, remembering the strange events of last year. Then, too, Weasley’s wand had gone missing before all of those odd pranks on Lockhart. But then again, he and his friends had proven that Lockhart had faked the entire thing. Even though the timing was a bit weird, surely these two incidents couldn’t be related.</p>
<p>Could they?</p>
<p>Over the next couple of days, Harry discovered that wishing for simple things, like drinks or snacks, would result in the item of choice appearing on his nightstand when nobody else was in their dorm room. But, oddly enough, wishing for things never seemed to work outside of the Slytherin dorms.</p>
<p>Harry also discovered that the volume of the wish mattered. If he whispered that he’d like a drink to himself, chances were that it would go unfulfilled; it seemed as if something was hearing him speak, as impossible as it seemed. Dobby swore up and down that it wasn’t him, but could the culprit be some sort of rogue house-elf? Some sort of enchantment on the dorm room?</p>
<p>He decided to put his theories to the test, once and for all, by faking a sudden stomachache and dashing back to the dorms after lunch one day. He burst into the dorm room, looking around; the room seemed empty, but Harry knew better than to make assumptions. “I wish,” he said loudly, feeling like a bit of a prat, “for a chocolate cake. With vanilla icing on it.” He deliberately made a lot of noise as he exited the room, stomping down to the common room.</p>
<p>He waited two minutes before pulling his folded Invisibility Cloak out of his robe pocket, putting it on, and then sneaking back up to the dorm as quietly as he could.</p>
<p>When he threw open the door, a small chocolate cake was sitting on his nightstand, and the room was completely empty.</p>
<p><i>”Hominem revelio!”</i> Harry called out, drawing his wand. The spell showed nobody else in the dorm room, and he frowned. Perhaps it was just some sort of strange enchantment, after all.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged, pulling off his cloak and putting it back in his trunk. “You know, a how-to guide on dark resurrections would be nice, while you're at it.” Harry wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. This time, however, when he returned after half an hour, no such guide was to be found. Nor was there anything there the day after, or the day after that. Harry began to feel a little silly. It was clear now that the whole thing had been either some sort of elaborate prank, or the efforts of a house-elf, perhaps.</p>
<p>He woke up on the morning of the Quidditch tryouts feeling both refreshed and accomplished, with another solved mystery under his belt.</p>
<p>And there, rolled up on his nightstand, was a very hastily scrawled foot of parchment in an unfamiliar hand, with summarized versions of three different dark rituals – involving a disturbing amount of human sacrifice – that could temporarily restore the dead to life.</p>
<p>“Huh,” Harry said quietly, sitting back down on his bed.</p>
<p>It seemed as if he’d found another minion.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quite a bit of setup in this chapter! As always, a big thanks to Duinemerwen for helping me hammer out the details of what exactly should be included in the plot for this year without the entire thing devolving into madness. You also have Duinemerwen to thank for the title change, as it turns out that the expression I'm referring to isn't quite what I remember it as :P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Of Mysteries and Minions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry picked distractedly at his breakfast, staring morosely at the pieces of bacon on his plate. On the bright side, he was a lot less nervous about the Quidditch tryouts than he’d been last night. But unfortunately, his worries about flying had just been replaced by a constant litany of thoughts on the identity of his new minion. Harry had decided that it had to be a Slytherin student – that was the only thing that made sense, considering that they had access to the dorms. But why hadn’t they revealed themselves? And why would they have needed to steal Harper’s wand?</p><p>And then there was the question of <i>why</i> they were even helping Harry, in the first place. Was it really that they feared his dark and unholy might, as Marvolo claimed? Was it that they’d heard Draco’s increasingly exaggerated stories about his encounter with the troll in first year, and had decided to throw their lot in with the next Dark Lord? His minion could be literally anyone – they could even be someone who’d read Tracey’s stories –</p><p>“Don’t worry, Harry,” Pansy said, looking concernedly at Harry’s frozen expression of mute horror. “You can’t possibly be any worse than ‘Veer-Off’ Vaisey.”</p><p>“Set the bar a little lower, why don’t you,” Blaise said dryly.</p><p>Pansy glared at him. “It’s <i>obvious</i> enough you’ll do well, Harry,” she said, sending Blaise another scowl. “We flew together at the Manor enough for me to know, didn’t we?”</p><p>“Don’t forget our backup plan, too,” Draco said smugly. It was clear that <i>he</i> wasn’t worried in the slightest, from the way he was tucking into his kippers.</p><p>“You’ll be just fine, Harry,” Pansy said soothingly. “And Draco, too, of course-“</p><p>“Just don’t look down,” Blaise advised him.</p><p>“There’s no need to be snippy just because you couldn’t fly your way out of a broom closet-“</p><p>“You’re right, Pansy. You’re <i>so</i> good at flying, which is why you’re sure to make the team.” Blaise clapped his hands to his cheeks in mock surprise. “Oh, but you’re not trying out, are you?”</p><p>“Thanks, guys,” Harry interjected hurriedly. He managed a weak smile, although he wasn’t sure whether Pansy or Blaise noticed, considering the impressive intensity with which they were glaring at each other. Draco gave him an encouraging nod before returning to his plate, at least.</p><p>He did his best to shove all thoughts of his mysterious new minion out of his head, determinedly poking at his toast once more. He had to look on the bright side, he decided. After all, Quidditch tryouts couldn’t possibly be any worse than this ordeal.</p><p>***</p><p>As it turned out, Harry really had nothing to worry about.</p><p>His odds of success were vastly improved by Vaisey living up to his nickname and somehow managing to fly right into the edge of a goal post. Still, Harry was clearly able to outfly the remaining candidates, and Flint declared the Seeker tryouts over after Harry caught the Snitch twice out of three attempts. Blaise, Pansy, and Draco cheered loudly as a jubilant Harry raced over to join them in the stands. Even Dawlish, sitting several rows back, stopped his tireless scan of the Quidditch pitch to give Harry a stiff nod of acknowledgment.</p><p>“Gryffindor,” Pansy declared, a vicious grin emblazoned across her features, “is dead in the water.”</p><p>“Deader than Gilderoy Lockhart’s career,” Blaise said, his smile no less satisfied. The two of them beamed at each other, reunited by their mutual hatred. Harry could sense Marvolo’s glowing approval.</p><p>Harry snuck a quick glance over at Draco, expecting him to add a sarcastic comment of his own, but his friend’s eyes were fixated on the next round of hopefuls entering the field. His smile looked unusually strained.</p><p>“I hear Vaisey’s trying for Chaser, too,” Harry whispered, nudging Draco with his elbow. “Flint’ll probably be begging to have you on the team, after seeing this lot fly.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Draco said, perking up slightly. “The Malfoys have excelled at Quidditch for generations, after all. Have I told you about the time my great-grandfather scored a last-minute goal against Ravenclaw to take the Cup for Slytherin?”<br/>
Harry did his best to hide his smile. Maybe there was something to be said for snobbery, considering the calming effect it always had on his friend’s nerves.</p><p>He frowned, catching a flash of movement near the stands on the other side of the pitch. Was that Fang? No, surely not – he hadn’t seen Hagrid in a while, but there was no way Fang would have lost so much weight in such a short time. Then again, how many shaggy black dogs could there possibly be on the Hogwarts grounds? Maybe Hagrid had been training him to sit still. The Fang Harry knew would have probably already bounded onto the pitch to cover half the Slytherin team in slobber by now. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look-</p><p>“What is it? Do you see something unusual?”</p><p>“Erm, what?” Harry turned over his shoulder to see that Dawlish had half-risen out of his seat, scanning the pitch even more intently then before. “Oh, it was nothing, sorry…just Hagrid’s dog.”</p><p>The Auror grunted. “You should be careful,” he said. “Black could try to use glamours to draw you out. Anything unusually fascinating, or which seems to call to you, should be reported to the appropriate authorities-“</p><p>“I’ll keep an eye out,” Harry said hurriedly, sighing inwardly at the Auror’s paranoia. When he turned back towards the pitch, Fang had already left.</p><p>He appreciated the fact that the Aurors were there to protect him. He really did. But he really couldn’t wait for the day that this whole ‘Sirius Black’ thing would be revealed as just a huge overreaction.</p><p>***</p><p>At first, Harry had thought that he would never get tired of talking about Quidditch, especially in the excitement that had followed when Draco made it onto the Slytherin team. This attitude had lasted a grand total of two days before Harry found himself making increasingly desperate excuses to avoid having to hear Draco tell the exact same story of his triumph, complete with enthusiastic hand gestures and dramatic re-enactments, for what must have been the eighty-sixth time.</p><p><i>Do you know what I would do in this situation, Potter?</i> Marvolo said conversationally.</p><p><i>I’m not using the Cruciatus on Draco,</i> Harry snapped.</p><p><i>Of course not, there’s too many witnesses,</i> Marvolo said dismissively. <i>Poison would be infinitely preferable.</i></p><p>Harry sighed. In his experience, Marvolo’s ‘advice’ usually fell into one of two categories: grossly disproportionate retribution, or shamelessly running away. Obviously, he wasn’t going to poison his best mate. But, as Marvolo’s whining began to sound more and more sensible - <i>don’t be such a wallflower, Potter; we can just poison him a </i>little – Harry decided that his only real option was to retreat. Temporarily, of course.</p><p>That was how Harry found himself holed up in the library for the fourth day in a row, staring glumly at a blank piece of parchment that was supposed to be his History of Magic essay. He’d gotten as far as writing: ‘The goblin rebellion’. Then he’d realized that he had no idea <i>which</i> goblin rebellion he was supposed to be writing about, and had dispiritedly crossed it out again.</p><p>Across from him, Blaise had abandoned all pretense of studying. The large textbook he’d propped up in front of him was barely enough to conceal his head, which was currently face-down on the library table, and did absolutely nothing at all to hide the steadily increasing sounds of his snoring.</p><p>He could almost <i>feel</i> Scrimgeour’s silent judgment boring into his back.</p><p>Desperately, Harry looked around the room, searching for literally anything else to distract him. His efforts were rewarded only by a suspicious glare from Madam Pince and a particularly loud snore from Blaise. </p><p>Oh, and a few surreptitious glances from the stalker sitting two tables down from them, of course. But since this particular stalker wasn’t actually doing anything weird aimed at Harry himself – for once in Harry’s life – Harry was inclined to graciously ignore him. </p><p>
  <i>Have your infinitely dull adolescent problems finally been dealt with, Potter?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Dull problems? Like the whole ‘crazed serial killer after my head’ issue?</i>
</p><p><i>Oh, come off it, Potter,</i> Marvolo said irritably. <i>You and I both know that he’s dull, too. Why, he hasn’t even made a single attempt on </i>anyone’s<i> life since breaking out of prison! It’s insufferably sensible of him!</i></p><p><i>Giving all serial murderers a bad name, is he?</i> Harry thought sarcastically.</p><p><i>Exactly, Potter! Really, it’s no wonder I hadn’t heard of him before,</i> Marvolo grumbled. <i>Not particularly prime minion material, if you ask me.</i></p><p><i>Right,</i> Harry thought dolefully. An idle thought struck him – perhaps he should ask his mysterious minion to dig up more information on Sirius Black? He certainly hadn’t had any luck doing research himself, after all. <i>Erm, how are your Horcruxes doing?</i> he asked politely.</p><p><i>Recalcitrant and obnoxious, as usual,</i> Marvolo said with a petulant hiss. <i>Every second spent thinking about merging with the wretched things is enough to make me long for a good murder or two.</i></p><p><i>Gee,</i> Harry thought innocently. <i>I wonder where they get </i>that<i> attitude from?</i></p><p><i>I hate you, Potter,</i> Marvolo growled.</p><p><i>Does that help you feel regret?</i> Harry asked hopefully.</p><p>
  <i>I hate regret, too.</i>
</p><p>Marvolo was clearly in one of <i>those</i> moods. <i>I’m going to go talk to the stalker,</i> he announced, standing up from the table. <i>He’s got to be more interesting than the goblin rebellions.</i></p><p><i>I hope he hexes you with something interesting, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, cheering up slightly.</p><p>The older boy’s eyes widened as Harry marched over to his table, pulling out a chair. “Hello,” Harry said brightly. “So, why are you stalking Auror Scrimgeour?”</p><p>“Stalking?!” The boy puffed up indignantly. “I am most certainly not stalking anyone!” His eyes darted nervously towards the Auror, his posture deflating instantly as he met Scrimgeour’s gimlet gaze. “Or, at least, participation in unsolicited job shadowing is not currently against any Ministry regulations!”</p><p>“Right,” Harry said, shrugging. He took a quick look over the papers strewn across the other boy’s table. At least he had some plausible deniability for his presence in the library, although admitting his criminal tendencies to the first person to question him on them probably wasn’t the best way to go about things. “So what are you doing here, then?”</p><p>The redhead perked up instantly. “I am preparing a report on substandard cauldron thicknesses to submit as an application to the Ministry,” he said earnestly. “Did you know that the rate of hospitalizations due to cauldron bottom leakage has increased by a steady 0.2% every year since the Ministry loosened its import regulations eighteen years ago?”</p><p>Harry frowned thoughtfully. “My friend, Neville, melts his cauldrons a lot in Potions class. D’you suppose it’s because his cauldrons are all defective?”</p><p>“He ought to check to make sure the manufacturer is based in Britain,” the boy said seriously. “You never know, with some of these unregulated places. Why, with the wrong potion, the consequences could be catastrophic!”</p><p>“Hang on a second,” Harry said, struck by sudden inspiration. “Does that mean you could assassinate someone and make it look like an accident just by switching their normal cauldron for one with a thin bottom?”</p><p>The other boy broke into a sudden coughing fit. He glanced nervously from Harry to Scrimgeour, and back again. “I…well,” he said, nervously pushing his glasses up his nose. “I suppose…it would be <i>possible</i>, but…well, you’d have to be making a very specific sort of potion – and these failures can be unpredictable, you know-“</p><p><i>Unless you sabotage the potion,</i> Marvolo hissed, suddenly quite interested in the conversation. Harry dutifully repeated this idea.</p><p>“Well, yes…I-I suppose that might-“ He broke off his sentence abruptly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry - <i>why</i> were you asking about this, exactly?”</p><p>“Oh, just wondering,” Harry assured him. He didn’t look particularly reassured, so Harry added: “Besides, it’d be awfully silly of me to discuss my secret plans to weaponize cauldron bottoms with someone else beforehand, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>The boy’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times. “I suppose that would be…very unusual,” he conceded, at last.</p><p><i>Initiative and willful ignorance is a powerful combination, Potter,</i> Marvolo hissed. <i>We should recruit him to unwittingly aid our dark machinations.</i></p><p>“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself earlier,” Harry said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Harry.”</p><p>“Percy Weasley,” the boy said, still looking a little faint. </p><p>“Nice to meet you, Percy,” Harry said. “I don’t really get it, though. If you’re not reporting on using cauldrons as murder weapons, why do you want to talk to the Aurors about them?”</p><p>“The Ministry isn’t about <i>what</i> you know. It’s all about <i>who</i> you know, you see.” Percy nodded over his shoulder. “Auror Scrimgeour there is the most senior Ministry official here who isn’t…well, you know-“</p><p>“Moody,” Harry said immediately.</p><p>Percy coughed politely. “Well, yes. If Mr. Scrimgeour could put in a good word for me, I’m sure it would guarantee that my application would be well-received, at the very least.”</p><p>Harry didn’t need Marvolo’s excited hisses at the thought of a new minion to offer his help. Percy seemed like a nice enough fellow. Plus, when Marvolo inevitably took over the world, he could probably really use someone who would actually bother to raise the alarm when his shoddily built lairs started disintegrating.</p><p>In short order, he’d convinced Percy to owe him a favor in return for Harry’s introducing him to Scrimgeour. In a shocking display of naivety, Percy hadn’t even imposed any restrictions on the <i>sort</i> of favor he would owe.</p><p>It would have been the perfect deal, had Scrimgeour been anyone other than himself.</p><p>“It’s all right, Percy,” Harry said, patting the older boy’s back consolingly. “Maybe you could pitch your idea to Dawlish? He seems…” He hesitated briefly, searching for an adjective other than ‘comfortably boring.’ “-reliable,” he finished.</p><p>“That’s quite all right, Harry.” Percy straightened up, his eyes full of determination. “I’ll simply have to come up with a more appropriate way to showcase my talents. Perhaps I could prepare a report on the mysteriously high frequency of misplaced wands in Hogwarts? Or the unfortunate bout of food poisoning which struck down half the Ravenclaw Quidditch team right before their final match in my first year? Oh, or perhaps the unsolved death of Myrtle Warren in 1943?”</p><p>Marvolo let out a surprised cackle of delight. <i>Still unsolved? Ha!</i></p><p><i>It was you, wasn’t it,</i> Harry sighed mentally.</p><p><i>Of course it was me, Potter,</i> Marvolo scoffed. <i>How many other mass murderers do you think they have running around here, anyway?</i></p><p><i>Sirius Black,</i> Harry thought immediately. <i>Professor Quirrell.</i></p><p><i>Those two don’t count,</i> Marvolo said, somewhat sulkily.</p><p>“Erm, how about looking into the wands?” Harry suggested. “That’s the most recent mystery around here, so it ought to be easier to find clues, right?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Percy blinked, looking up from the surprisingly long list of ideas he’d been jotting down on his scroll of parchment. “Yes, of course. Well, it seems that I have my work cut out for me. I’ll see you later, then.”</p><p>“Bye, Percy!” Harry waved cheerfully. His smile slipped slightly as he turned back to his original table to see Blaise still slumped in his seat, snoring loudly enough to have finally earned Madam Pince’s attention.</p><p>Harry sighed dolefully as they gathered up their books and fled, resigning himself to another evening spent listening to Draco’s autobiography. For a moment, he almost wished that Draco had resorted to using his bribery plan to get on the team, instead.</p><p>He was sure that Draco would have been infinitely less insufferable, had that been the case.</p><p>***</p><p>Harry frowned at the long scroll of parchment in front of him, utterly bewildered. Perhaps he should have been more specific with his dark demands.</p><p>Admittedly, he <i>had</i> asked his mystery minion to write down all the information they could possibly find about Sirius Black. He supposed it was probably good to know that he’d had some sort of weird phobia of portraits when he was eleven years old, but surely the fact that his favorite sweet as a child had been cauldron cakes was completely irrelevant?</p><p>Although he supposed that he <i>could</i> take a leaf out of Marvolo and Snape’s book and leave poisoned cauldron cakes lying around their dorm, he’d probably end up offing Crabbe and Goyle instead. But if Sirius Black was stupid enough to actually come after him, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad defense idea after all.</p><p>Shrugging, Harry resolved to scan the rest of the scroll for other such interesting details. At the end of the scroll – which only seemed to reach halfway through Black’s first year at Hogwarts - his minion had promised to continue faithfully chronicling Black’s life until such time as his master no longer desired more information. </p><p>How on earth did his minion <i>know</i> all this stuff, anyways? There was absolutely no way his minion was Sirius Black himself, so perhaps they had been a friend of Black’s? But then they would certainly be far too old to be hanging out in the Slytherin dorms, wouldn’t they?</p><p>Harry pondered this mystery all throughout breakfast. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hardly noticed the unusually large crowd outside the Defense classroom, or the way the door to the room gaped open, or even the enormous mess within, as if someone had systematically gone through the whole place and trashed everything they could get their hands on.</p><p>What he certainly <i>did</i> notice was Rufus Scrimgeour and Tonks having a screaming row in the middle of the hallway, Lupin vainly trying to interject between them.</p><p>“-told you, he’s a danger to-“</p><p>“-if you’d just shut up and <i>listen,</i> you’d know I’ve been stuck to him like a Lethifold; he can’t <i>possibly</i> be-”</p><p>“What’s going on here?” Shacklebolt said, stepping in front of Harry.</p><p>Tonks began to say something, but Scrimgeour cut in. “It’s Sirius Black,” he said curtly.</p><p>“Get him out of here,” Shacklebolt said immediately, gesturing towards Harry. Before Harry could so much as voice a word of protest, Dawlish cast a series of translucent shields, seized his arm, and began to hurriedly walk him down the hallway. “Auror Scrimgeour, what-“</p><p>Despite the widening distance between them, the silence that had followed Scrimgeour’s statement made his next proclamation all too clear. “He broke into the castle during the early hours of the morning, and ransacked this room,” Scrimgeour said coldly. “He was looking for something. Or <i>someone.”</i> He flung his arm out, every line of his body taut with tension.</p><p>“And Remus Lupin was the one who let him in.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been a while! Things have been extraordinarily busy in my personal life lately. However, with the help of the amazing Duinemerwen, I have sorted out some lingering plot threads, and hope to have the next few updates be far less infrequent. Thanks for being patient!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Regularly Scheduled Mayhem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” Blaise said, barely bothering to lower his voice. “Do you think he did it?”</p><p>“Of course he did,” Draco said instantly. “Quirrell and Lockhart turned out to be frauds. Stands to sense this one’s got something wrong with him as well, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“I…don’t know,” Harry admitted as Blaise turned to look at him expectantly. “I mean, if he was really in league with Sirius Black, he could have tried to kill me before.”</p><p>“Not without getting caught,” Draco pointed out. </p><p>Harry knew Draco had a point, but the memory of how resigned Lupin’s face had looked at the accusations drove him to try and defend their newest professor. “How do we know it was even Sirius Black who trashed the Defense classroom, anyway? It could have just been Peeves, or something.”</p><p>All three boys turned expectantly towards Pansy, who was already shaking her head. “I heard from Sadie who heard from Nerys who heard from Kinjal that a portrait actually <i>saw</i> him! Sir Cadegan, I think his name was?”</p><p>“Cadogan,” Harry said, frowning slightly as he remembered his last encounter with the portrait. “He’s not the most reliable type, if you ask me.”</p><p>Pansy shrugged. “Well, apparently he said that he heard strange noises coming from the classroom, decided to investigate to find ‘the scoundrel’ – his words exactly – and ended up catching Black in the act! And, what’s even worse-“ Her voice dropped to a delighted whisper. “Black threatened him with a <i>knife!</i> Like some sort of Muggle!”</p><p>“Ugh,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose.</p><p>“Maybe that’s why he was in there,” Blaise mused. “Looking for a spare wand?”</p><p>“That’s the thing!” Pansy exclaimed. “He didn’t have a wand, so how did he manage to escape without being seen? And how did he get in, for that matter? He must have gone straight into the classroom, don’t you think? That’d point to Lupin letting him in via the Floo, or perhaps leaving a Portkey for him.”</p><p>“You can’t use Portkeys to get into Hogwarts, unless you’re the Headmaster,” Theo interjected, sounding almost bored.</p><p>“It’s got to be the Floo, then,” Draco declared, nodding as if everything had been settled.</p><p>“Great!” Blaise said, pulling out a sheet of parchment. “I’ll put you all down for a Galleon each on Scrimgeour being right, then?”</p><p>Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”</p><p>“Two Galleons on Lupin,” Pansy said promptly. Harry gave her a relieved smile, which turned out to be short-lived. “The odds have got to be absolute rubbish on the other side.”</p><p>Blaise shrugged. “It’s four-to-one right now. Not bad.”</p><p>“Five on Scrimgeour,” Draco said.</p><p>“You can put me down for one on Scrimgeour,” Theo said, casting a dark look at the parchment, “as long as you tell me you haven’t actually written everyone’s actual names down on that thing.”</p><p>“What do you take me for, some sort of <i>Gryffindor?”</i> Blaise said, rolling his eyes. “It’s encoded with a spell, of course. Besides, we’ve got immunity. Snape put down ten Galleons on Scrimgeour.”</p><p>“I…don’t think that means we have immunity,” Theo said, frowning.</p><p>“Too late, your name’s already down,” Blaise said brightly. “Harry?”</p><p>“Hang on a second,” Harry said, desperately attempting to reassert some sense of normalcy. “Shouldn’t we try to find out what happened first? You know…find evidence, or something?” In his head, Marvolo scoffed loudly.</p><p>Blaise shook his head pityingly. “Of course not. What’s the fun in gambling when you already know the outcome? Really, Harry, it’s as if you’ve never been part of a secret betting ring before.”</p><p>“Oh, come off it, Blaise,” Draco drawled. “Most of the bets have been about him, anyways; he wouldn’t have had the chance-”</p><p>“Wait, what bets?”</p><p>Draco suddenly busied himself with his plate of drop scones, while Pansy flashed him a disturbingly innocent smile. “Don’t worry about it, Harry.”</p><p>“But-“</p><p>“So, Draco,” Pansy said sweetly. <i>”How</i> did your Quidditch tryout go, again? I know I was there, but I simply <i>never</i> get tired of hearing about it.”</p><p>Defeated, Harry slouched down on the bench. He caught Blaise’s eye across the table as the other boy winked at him. “Don’t worry, Harry,” Blaise whispered conspiratorially. “I’ll make sure to put your Galleon on Lupin, then.”</p><p> Harry resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. Clearly, <i>something</i> needed to be done about this situation.</p><p>And, luckily, he knew exactly who to go to for help.</p><p>***</p><p>“I’m sorry, Harry,” Percy said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure why you want to defend Professor Lupin in the first place, when the evidence seems so strongly against him.”</p><p>“What evidence?” Harry said incredulously. “What, just because one overly excitable portrait claims to have seen Sirius Black, Lupin’s suddenly his best friend? How would Sir Cadogan even <i>know</i> what Sirius Black looks like? Isn’t he a thousand years old or something?”</p><p>Percy sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said dolefully. “Though I suppose that if anyone has a right to know, it’s you. All of the prefects got a briefing about Black at the start of the year. Headmaster Dumbledore told us that he’d personally shown the portraits pictures of Black, and that he’d asked all of them to keep an eye out for him.”</p><p>“He could have been mistaken,” Harry argued. “It was probably pitch black; Cadogan could have seen anyone in there.”</p><p>Percy tutted impatiently. “And why would ‘anyone’ brandish a knife at a Hogwarts portrait? Or upend the Defense classroom, for that matter?”</p><p>“It…it could have been some sort of weird prank,” Harry said lamely. “But my point is that we won’t know for sure unless we investigate it! Besides, you said you’d owe me a favor, didn’t you?”</p><p>Percy sighed again. “I don’t understand. Why are you so sure of Professor Lupin’s innocence?”</p><p>“Just a feeling,” Harry said, averting his eyes. There was no way he could tell Percy that it was just because Lupin had been his parents’ friend. Even in his head, it sounded utterly pathetic.</p><p>“Right.” Percy eyed him dubiously. “Well, personally, I feel it would be wise to keep your distance from Professor Lupin. Even if I did think it would be a good idea to go against Auror Scrimgeour on this issue – which I don’t, of course – I can’t say that I’m at all convinced-“</p><p>“Forget Scrimgeour,” Harry blurted out. “If you look into Professor Lupin’s situation, I’ll ask Lucius Malfoy to personally introduce you to the Minister. That’d work out much better, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>“Lucius Malfoy?!” Percy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “But – well, I’m not sure if you know this, but our families have been rivals for <i>years.</i> Why would he-“</p><p>“Lucius Malfoy takes owing people favors very seriously,” Harry said, perhaps a little more sharply than he’d intended. He relented slightly at the look on Percy’s face. “Look, I’m not asking you to make up evidence, or anything. Auror Scrimgeour could end up being right, after all. I just want to <i>know</i> for sure. That’s why I wanted to ask you, since I figured you’d do a thorough job of investigating, and all.”</p><p>Percy puffed up slightly at Harry’s praise. “I suppose I could speak with Auror Tonks on the subject,” he mused. “And perhaps interview Sir Cadogan – and examine the crime scene, of course.”</p><p>“Thanks, Percy,” Harry said, relieved. “I really appreciate it.”</p><p>“It’s no matter,” the other boy said, somewhat pompously. Pompous or not, the sheer amount of possible leads Percy scribbled down within the next five minutes reassured Harry that he’d made the right choice in asking him to look into Lupin’s situation.</p><p>With the help of his other mystery minion, Harry was sure that he’d be able to resolve the whole thing in no time at all.</p><p>***</p><p>The first indication that something was wrong was the distinct lack of any cauldron cakes on Harry’s nightstand when he returned from the library.</p><p>The second clue – and, in retrospect, probably the more obvious one – was the haphazardly written note that his minion had scribbled on the back of one of Blaise’s discarded Transfiguration essays.</p><p>
 <i>They’re going to be busy ‘delivering Sirius Black unto my dark judgment?’</i> Harry thought, frowning suspiciously at the piece of paper. <i>What does that even mean?</i>
</p><p>
 <i>Finally,</i> Marvolo said impatiently. <i>It seems as if at least one of your minions knows the proper meaning of tribute.</i>
</p><p>
 Harry snorted. <i>Sounds more like they’re coming up with an excuse to book it so they don’t get caught in the crossfire when Black tries to murder me again.</i>
</p><p>
 <i>So mistrustful,</i> Marvolo said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. <i>I have taught you well, Potter.</i>
</p><p>
 Harry managed a small smile at the compliment. Still, this was clearly a problem. Between his duties in the Hogwarts kitchens and delivering the occasional message for Harry, Dobby was pretty busy, and none of Harry’s other minions could reasonably be called subtle. He would probably have to just trust Percy to carry out the investigation on his own.
</p><p>
 He wished he’d been able to uncover the identity of his vanished helper earlier. It was a mystery that would undoubtedly nag at him forever, since whoever it was had clearly painted themselves into a corner. After all, what were the chances of them actually managing to catch a criminal who had somehow slipped out of a prison packed full of monstrous guards and fooled almost half the Auror department?
</p><p>
 No, Harry decided. It was best to concentrate on more practical plans.
</p><p>
 The first step, of course, would be to try and actually make use of the information which his dearly departed minion had already provided him.
</p><p>***</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Dear Professor Snape,</p>
  <p>I came up with a couple of completely innocuous modifications to a rejuvenation potion I found in a book. I wanted to try and make a healthy alternative to the potion recipe (for example: taking out some of the ‘human flesh’ components and making it so that the original body used in the recipe doesn’t have to completely disintegrate into the potion). Do you think you could help look over my experiment for me? </p>
  <p>Sincerely,</p>
  <p>Harry</p>
  <p>P.S. If this potion was made in a cauldron with a thin bottom and ended up leaking out (hypothetically, of course), would that be enough to assassinate the potion-maker? Asking for a friend.</p>
</blockquote><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strike>Potter, this is not a rejuvenation potion</strike>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strike>There are at least eight major errors in this recipe and if you dare attempt it I will disembowel you myself, you utter DUNDERHEAD</strike>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strike>Potter <i>why-</i></strike>
  </p>
  <p>Potter,</p>
  <p>I have enclosed <i>1001 Most Gruesome Potions Accidents: A Compendium of Horrific Deaths</i> with this letter. I expect at least three feet of parchment itemizing every single error in your recipe and the agonizing demise associated with each error by Sunday of this week. I suggest that you pay particular attention to the chapters on ‘spontaneous dismemberment’ and ‘introductory liquefaction.’</p>
  <p>Should you even think of attempting to make this abomination of a failed potion, I can assure you that the ghastly fates of the inept potioneers described in this book pale in comparison to what I will do to you.</p>
</blockquote><p>***</p><p>Marvolo had fallen into an even deeper sulk with each error Snape had viciously underlined in their modified potion recipe. <i>It’s not as if you really </i>needed<i> that limb anyway, Potter.</i></p><p><i>I happen to need </i>all<i> my limbs, thank you very much,</i> Harry snapped. <i>I suppose you mustn’t need a body that badly after all, if that’s the case.</i></p><p>Harry decided to interpret Marvolo’s offended grumbling as agreement. </p><p>Still, considering that his weekly detentions with Snape had morphed into absolutely fascinating lessons on how not to die while pursuing the subtle art of potionmaking, Harry had a feeling that Marvolo’s plans for world domination would have to be delayed a little while longer. The main message running throughout all of Snape’s seemingly innumerable rants was definitely that he shouldn’t attempt to brew any potions of dark resurrection any time soon. If Snape had his way, this probably wouldn’t be until Harry was at least as old as Headmaster Dumbledore.</p><p>Over the next few weeks, it became clear that the fuss over Sirius Black had begun to die down. Harry’s ever-present Auror entourage had doubled up at first, for twice the daily dosage of constant vigilance; however, when Black failed to reappear, the atmosphere of the castle gradually began to relax. Soon, the main topic of gossip was no longer Lupin’s presumed guilt or Harry’s impending demise, but the rapidly progressing nervous breakdown of a completely unrelated Hogwarts professor.</p><p>“It’s too bad, really,” Blaise sighed. “I was going to take Divination next year, too. Sounded like an easy E, from everything I’ve heard.”</p><p>Draco snorted. “You ought to consider yourself lucky. Father says they get at least one complaint about Trelawney every year. Apparently she has a bad habit of predicting people’s deaths, or something.”</p><p>“She does what?” Harry said, horrified.</p><p>“Well, she’s wrong every time, of course,” Draco drawled. “That’s why they get all those complaints in the first place.”</p><p>“She should be pleased as punch, then,” Blaise said while Harry was still processing Draco’s statement. “If she’s predicting her <i>own</i> death, that’s as good as saying that she’s the safest one in the castle, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I’m not sure about that,” Pansy said slowly. “I asked around, and all the upper-year girls in Divination said that she usually just predicts a death at the start of the year and then lets everyone work themselves up about it. She’s never done anything like this before.”</p><p>“Well, with all the deathtraps lying around the grounds, it’s only a matter of time before she falls into one,” Draco said. “Wouldn’t that be funny, if this turns out to be the one thing she gets right?”</p><p><i>Unlikely,</i> Marvolo said dismissively. <i>They’re not even particularly </i>good<i> deathtraps.</i></p><p>Harry supposed that Marvolo was the expert on such matters. Still, he had no idea what Auror Moody could possibly be thinking. Of course, the grizzled Auror had denied all of the rumors that he was the one who had been laying out the frankly puzzlingly placed series of traps that had been discovered in various areas around Hogwarts, but he’d promptly ruined the effect by barking reminders of constant vigilance to all and sundry. With the general consensus being that Moody was probably the only person mad enough to try and lay out deathtraps for an equally deranged convict, his guilt was accepted as fact by most of the student body.</p><p>On occasion, Harry did wonder, ever-so-slightly, about the mysterious note that his minion had left him. The poorly concealed spike pit, the misfired attempts at wards that had given the unfortunate Trelawney a bloody nose and started the entire series of events, the frankly baffling setup with the hot oil, the Transfigured spiders, and the cauldron full of purloined sweets…could they really be his minion’s attempts to actually fulfill his promise?</p><p>No, Harry thought, dismissing the idea. That would be far too weird.</p><p>“Seeing the Grim is a serious omen, Draco!” Harry’s eyes widened with surprise as he noticed how tightly Pansy’s hands were clenched in her lap. “And-and with what happened with Lockhart last year – what if-“</p><p>Draco snorted loudly. “Oh, come off it, Pansy! You’re not still on about that, are you?”</p><p>Pansy scowled at him. “All I’m saying is that it’s suspicious-“</p><p>“There’s nothing suspicious about Dumbledore’s hiring practices being rubbish,” Draco said, waving her off. “Father says he ought to have been sacked as Headmaster ages ago.”</p><p>“Draco, think about it,” Pansy said urgently. “Isn’t it just like last year? A professor suddenly starts falling victim to a series of unexplained events-“</p><p>“I can walk around spouting off stories about the Grim too; that doesn’t mean it’s <i>unexplained,</i> it just means anyone who believes me is an idiot-“</p><p>“Oh,” Pansy said, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Is <i>that</i> so?”</p><p>“I think Pansy has a point,” Harry interjected hurriedly, clearing his throat nervously as his friends turned to look at him. “What are the chances another professor would be thick enough to try to pull the exact same trick, right after Lockhart failed at it?”</p><p>“You can’t possibly think Trelawney’s actually on to something,” Draco said, exasperated. “If she was a real Seer, there’s no way she’d be teaching at Hogwarts, of all places. She’d either be a hermit in the woods or filthy rich from winning Quidditch World Cup bets.”</p><p>“Not to burst your bubble, but being a Seer doesn’t work like that,” Blaise drawled.</p><p><i>It most certainly does not,</i> Marvolo said. <i>The Dark Lord Grindelwald was a Seer, you know, and look what it got him.</i></p><p><i>I’m guessing the answer isn’t ‘heaps of Galleons’ or ‘world domination,’</i> Harry thought.</p><p><i>Prison, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, sounding a little put out that Harry had guessed correctly. <i>Always read between the lines of your prophecies. Or hunt down and kill all the Seers in your dark domain. Either’d work, probably.</i></p><p>Draco threw up his hands. “Ugh. Not you, too, Blaise!”</p><p>“I have no opinion on Trelawney, for the record, but Divination’s supposed to be the discipline of cruel irony,” Blaise argued. “Look at the whole Cassandra fiasco! You can’t read half the wizarding history books out there without Divination managing to ruin <i>someone’s</i> life.”</p><p>“Then why did you want to take it?” Harry asked, frowning.</p><p>“Oh, you know,” Blaise said casually. “Ruining lives is sort of a family business, you see. Thought I’d keep it going.”</p><p>“Well, what about that seer in Canada who predicted that she’d win a jackpot?” Draco said stubbornly.</p><p>“Ah,” Blaise said, holding up a finger. “But was that before or after she’d gambled away all her savings on buying lottery tickets?”</p><p>“How in Merlin’s name does <i>that</i> make a difference?”</p><p>To Harry’s immense relief, the argument devolved into a discussion of whether or not Divination was complete bunk or not. Pansy perked up again somewhat, although she still sent Draco the occasional scowl. Even Marvolo chimed in with his opinion from time-to-time, although his insights were usually too disturbing to repeat to his friends.</p><p>Soon enough, Harry had forgotten all about Hogwarts’ Divination professor, and her claims that the Grim would bring a great doom upon them.</p><p>But, unbeknownst to them all, a great doom was indeed looming on the horizon.</p><p>***</p><p>“-remember, a Transylvanian tackle isn’t a foul as long as you <i>act</i> like you didn’t really punch them,” Flint said, concluding his final pep talk to resounding cheers from most of the team. Harry and Draco exchanged dubious glances as they applauded politely.</p><p>“As long as we don’t get disqualified, we’ve got this in the bag,” Draco whispered, hoisting his Nimbus 2001 over his shoulder.</p><p>Harry grinned at him, raising his matching broom slightly. “Good luck not getting caught, Draco.”</p><p>“A Malfoy never gets caught,” Draco sniffed, feigning offense for a grand total of five seconds before they both dissolved into snickers.</p><p>“Quiet in the back!” Flint bellowed. Obediently, the two second-years fell into line as they marched onto the pitch with the rest of their team. In what seemed like no time at all, they were mounting their brooms and taking to the air in the midst of a chorus of cheers and boos from the crowd.</p><p>Harry climbed higher and higher into the sky until he was circling above the pitch. He grinned as he caught sight of Professor Snape on his ascent, staring fixedly at Harry with a white-knuckled grip on the railing. The only thing that Snape hated more than Quidditch was Professor Lupin, by all accounts; the fact that he turned up at every one of Slytherin’s Quidditch games without fail to make sure Harry didn’t fall off his broom and die was really quite touching, in Harry’s opinion.</p><p>“-and, true to form, the Slytherin team starts off the game with a foul, those dirty great cheating bas-“</p><p>“JORDAN!” Professor McGonagall bellowed.</p><p>Harry suppressed a smile. Clearly, Flint was already putting his ‘strategy’ into practice. Hopefully, the drills that Draco had done with the other Chasers on actual Quidditch tactics would pay off.</p><p>The first few drops of rain threatened by the dark, cloudy sky began to fall. Harry sighed, thanking his lucky stars that Pansy had had the forethought to cast the Impervius Charm on his glasses beforehand. He rather wished he’d thought of casting a Warming Charm on himself, too, but it was far too late for that.</p><p>Determined to end the match quickly, he sent his broom in wide, arcing loops around the pitch, his eyes straining for any glint of gold. The drizzle rapidly gave way to a downpour; Harry winced as the loud crack of thunder echoed around him, momentarily drowning out Lee Jordan’s ongoing commentary.</p><p>Luckily, the Nimbus 2001 handled like a dream, even in bad weather. As he went round and round, he did his best to block out the thunderstorm, focusing all his senses on catching that single, elusive glimpse of the Snitch-</p><p>And <i>there!</i> Down, close to the ground, so small that he wasn’t quite sure he’d really seen it – but he was already angling his broom into a steep dive, plummeting further and further towards what he was now sure was the Snitch, ignoring the scurrying forms of the Aurors around the edges of the pitch-</p><p>The Hufflepuff Seeker was on his heels, having evidently caught a glimpse of the Snitch herself. Her broom may have been inferior to the Nimbus 2001, but she was certainly taller and, if Harry was honest with himself, far more athletic than he was; to his horror, he saw her standing upright on her broom out of the corner of his eye, leaning forward and reaching towards the Snitch that darted <i>just</i> out of Harry’s grasp-</p><p>In a moment of unthinking desperation, he copied her, clambering upright onto his broom. The chorus of shouting ringing in his ears swelled as he teetered forward – or perhaps it was only Marvolo’s shrieks, which tended to sort of overwhelm the background noise at any given moment – and then his fingers had closed around the Snitch, and he’d half-sunk, half-fallen back onto his broom, a joyous feeling building in his chest as he hoisted the evidence of Slytherin’s victory into the air.</p><p>He soon realized that absolutely nobody was looking at him.</p><p>Instead, the student body was gaping at Mad-Eye Moody, who, with another impassioned cry of “I’VE GOT YOU NOW, SIRIUS BLACK!” was levelling his wand at the tall bushes on the Hufflepuff side of the stands.</p><p>“No!” Scrimgeour roared, rushing into action, but it was too late. An immense gout of fire burst from the tip of Moody’s wand, cutting through the pouring rain to incinerate a vast swathe of greenery and lap at the edges of the Hufflepuff seats.</p><p>Scrimgeour and Dawlish tackled Moody, driving him down to the ground as a panicked exodus of Hufflepuffs raced for the opposite corner of the stands. The Hufflepuff Seeker flew over to join the group of older Hufflepuff students casting <i>Aguamentis</i> at the flames, while Moody bellowed something about enemies being everywhere.</p><p>“Er, and Harry Potter catches the Snitch,” Lee Jordan said belatedly. “Slytherin takes the match, 210-70, despite…” The announcer floundered momentarily. “…well, whatever the hell that was-“</p><p>“LANGUAGE, JORDAN!” McGonagall bellowed as she dashed across the pitch, her wand already trained on the blaze.</p><p><i>If I’d known that Quidditch games could be like </i>this, <i>I would have attended more of them,</i> Marvolo mused.</p><p>Draco set his broom down beside Harry’s, an irritated scowl crossing his face. “If Sirius Black’s charred corpse isn’t found in those stupid bushes, my father will hear of this. Do you think anyone even <i>noticed</i> my Woollongong Shimmy?!”</p><p>Harry tore his eyes away from the struggling Moody, who was currently alternating between flinging more fire at the bushes and dueling a very angry-looking Scrimgeour. “I’m sure everybody important noticed,” he offered, patting his friend’s shoulder.</p><p>“Too right,” Draco said, tossing his head arrogantly. <i>”I</i> certainly noticed, after all.”</p><p>Sharing a final snicker, the two world-weary warriors walked off the Quidditch pitch together, determinedly ignoring the growing chorus of shouts behind them.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <i>RENEGADE AUROR INCINERATES HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH PITCH</i>
</p><p>
  <i>RITA SKEETER</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In a stunning display of incompetence, aged senior Auror “Mad-Eye” Moody was physically restrained by his colleagues after spontaneously incinerating a large section of the Hogwarts grounds and Quidditch stands while students were watching a game. Eyewitnesses recounted the harrowing incident, which resulted in several hundred Galleons’ worth of property damage and the collapse of several seating sections, as “confusing” and “terrifying.” While Auror Moody could not be reached for comment, several witnesses heard him alluding to a “suspicious rustling in the bushes”, which the senior Auror bizarrely interpreted as evidence of the presence of notorious convict Sirius Black.</i>
</p><p><i>“We are currently investigating the incident, and will certainly question Senior Auror Moody regarding his role in the unfortunate events that took place yesterday,” Senior Auror Rufus Scrimgeour told the </i>Prophet. <i>”We would like to assure the public that the fire was contained immediately, and that no students were injured as a result of Auror Moody’s actions.” </i></p><p>
  <i>But ex-Ministry insider Jane, who informed yours truly of several shocking misconduct allegations implicating members at the highest levels of government, isn’t so sure.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Auror Moody is a violent and disturbed individual, prone to outbursts of paranoia and attention-seeking behavior,” Jane said. “Why, not three months ago, he hexed an unsuspecting witch for ‘breathing suspiciously in his general vicinity!’ Perhaps we should worry not about Sirius Black, but about the nasty individuals who do such a poor job of ‘protecting’ witches and wizards from the real threats to our society.”</i>
</p><p><i>Watch out for Jane’s new column, ‘Ministry of Malice: Confessions of an Ex-Official’, debuting next week in a </i>Daily Prophet<i> exclusive!</i></p><p>***</p><p>Harry clutched the edges of his Invisibility Cloak tightly, looking nervously around the darkened room. When Dobby had delivered Lucius Malfoy’s latest missive with a request to meet ‘in person’, setting up a clandestine Floo call had seemed like a no-brainer. Now, as he lurked in the Slytherin common room in the dead of night, scanning each and every corner with a level of paranoia that would have made Moody proud, it seemed more like an utterly unnecessary risk.</p><p><i>This had better be good,</i> Marvolo grumbled, evidently no more pleased to be crouching in front of the fireplace than Harry was. <i>You have been practicing your Instant Scalping Hex, yes?</i></p><p><i>I’m not going to light Lucius Malfoy’s eyeballs on fire, Marvolo,</i> Harry snapped.</p><p><i>Just asking, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, his faux-innocence fooling nobody at all. He immediately ruined the effect with an anticipatory cackle.</p><p>With a sudden crackle of flame, Lucius Malfoy’s head appeared in the middle of the fireplace. His eyes were wild, and somewhat sunken; his usually immaculate blond hair was ever-so-slightly disheveled. “My lord,” Lucius said, bobbing his disembodied head in what was presumably a bow.</p><p>Harry swept his hood back to reveal his face, nodding imperiously. “I trust you have good news, my servant,” he said, injecting as much pomposity into his voice as he dared.</p><p>Lucius licked his lips. “As per your dark command, my lord, I searched far and wide for the artifact you entrusted to Bellatrix. I searched the hidden caves at the heart of Britain’s last dragon preserve, battled the vampire lord Havelock to plunder his secret coffers, examined the infested nest of a feral house-elf-“</p><p>“You found it?!” Harry exclaimed, momentarily forgetting to act menacing in his excitement. “Erm, I mean – have you succeeded in your task, minion?”</p><p>Lucius Malfoy smiled, relieved. “I am pleased to report, my lord, that I found Hufflepuff’s Cup at last, stored safely within my sister-in-law’s bank vault.”</p><p><i>WHAT?!?</i> Marvolo shrieked.</p><p>Harry blinked, flabbergasted. “Perhaps I misheard you, my minion,” he said, clearing his throat.</p><p>“I have retrieved your dark artifact from Bellatrix’s bank vault, my lord,” Lucius dutifully repeated. It didn’t sound any better the second time around.</p><p><i>Gringotts?!</i> Marvolo screamed. <i>I give her a fragment of my blackened and powerful soul, freedom to choose from as many deathtraps as she could dream of, and she leaves it in her VAULT?</i></p><p>This was probably not the time to point out that the first bit of Marvolo’s soul that they’d managed to retrieve had been haphazardly draped over a random mannequin in Hogwarts’ storage closet. “I am certain that it was protected by many dangerous curses,” Harry said diplomatically.</p><p>The elder Malfoy looked confused for a moment. “Ah, well – the second-highest level of Gringotts security measures were purchased for the vault’s contents-“</p><p>Marvolo let out a high-pitched scream of inarticulate rage.</p><p>“You have done well, my minion,” Harry said, trying to ignore the growing headache building behind his eyes. “You will transfer the Cup to my possession over the Christmas hols. Go, now, and recover.”</p><p>Lucius Malfoy murmured his thanks, bobbed his head again, and vanished.</p><p>Marvolo <i>still</i> hadn’t stopped screaming.</p><p>Harry sighed as he pulled his Cloak around himself again, trudging up the stairs. He couldn’t wait until Marvolo got his stupid body back.</p><p>After all, a resurrected Marvolo would undoubtedly be infinitely easier to deal with.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, a huge thanks to the wonderful Duinemerwen, who sacrificed two and a half hours of her life to hammer out plot details for the rest of the fic together. If the remaining chapters are posted in a somewhat timely fashion, you know who to be grateful to!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Unsuitable Precautions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite the completely deserved allegations of misconduct dogging Moody’s footsteps, the senior Auror clung on to his hard-won position by the tips of his fingernails. With a glowering Scrimgeour breathing down his neck, he’d read an apology off a piece of parchment in a reluctant monotone, sprinkled with plenty of promises to uphold the integrity of the Auror corps while still maintaining near-constant vigilance.</p>
<p>If the fact that that had been a bald-faced lie wasn’t clear enough, he’d then promptly turned around and imposed a series of ridiculously draconian security measures that made the bushfire incident look reasonable.</p>
<p>At first, this hadn’t been much of a problem. Harry had Dobby to relay his nefarious instructions to Lucius and Hagrid. And, although Draco and Pansy grumbled constantly about how irritating it was to have their family owls searched, Harry was all too aware that he would never be receiving any letters while at school, ever again. </p>
<p>In fact, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.</p>
<p>It was odd – he thought that he’d handled the whole situation quite maturely, all things considered. Aunt Petunia had been right, after all. Living at Hogwarts and Draco’s place over the summer had been great, and she’d been so <i>afraid</i> of him – how could he possibly miss the way she’d looked at him? For that matter, how could he miss those stupid news programs Uncle Vernon had watched all the time, or Dudley’s enraged bellowing when the latest diet craze hit the household? Surely what had happened was for the best, right?</p>
<p>But, for some reason, the Dursleys kept creeping back into his head at breakfast time, of all times, when the mail arrived for everybody else but Harry.</p>
<p>“Open again,” Draco said disgustedly, tilting the slashed-open envelope towards the rest of the table. “Honestly, it’s like they don’t even have <i>magic.</i>”</p>
<p>“They’d still be looking through your letters, even if they used magic,” Blaise pointed out.</p>
<p>Draco shot him a withering look. “Yes, but they could at least be polite enough to pretend they aren’t.”</p>
<p> “I think that’s ruder, personally,” Blaise said. “Insults your intelligence. Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”</p>
<p>“What?” Harry said distractedly, his heart beating faster despite himself as Hedwig landed on the table, a ripped package clutched in her talons. He did his best to hide his disappointment as he pulled the latest edition of <i>Potions Monthly</i> from the wreckage.</p>
<p>“Leave Harry out of it,” Pansy said, frowning slightly as she glanced at his face. “At any rate, it could always be worse.” She gestured towards the other end of the table, packed with near-mutinous upper-years. Moody’s decision to ban Hogsmeade trips as part of his own ongoing power trip had established him as a villain even more hated than Filch, if such a thing was possible. Blaise’s betting ring had even shifted to odds that strongly favored Lupin over Scrimgeour, which seemed to be accounted for by sheer spite as much as by faith in the Defense Professor’s innocence.</p>
<p>“I don’t see how it could possibly be worse,” Draco said, scowling fiercely. “What’s the point of my father hearing of things if the <i>Aurors</i> hear of them first?”</p>
<p>Harry could think of quite a few ways in which things could be worse, but he had faith in Dumbledore. Surely the Headmaster wouldn’t let Moody’s paranoia get <i>too</i> out of hand?</p>
<p>The very next day, Montague was the first to raise a fuss when he discovered that Floo calling had been the latest communication method to go on the chopping block. </p>
<p>“But that’s ridiculous!” Pansy exclaimed as they watched a trio of Slytherin seventh-years poke ineffectively at the ashes in the now-inert fireplace. “Sirius Black <i>obviously</i> didn’t Floo in, or he’d have broken in again ages ago!”</p>
<p>Neither logic nor passionate pleas nor the impromptu protest organized by the Weasley twins over dinner managed to sway Moody, though. Harry stared uneasily at the High Table, his plate abandoned in front of him. He’d thought that Headmaster Dumbledore would hold the Aurors in check, but the short speech he’d made to quell the protests had more-or-less supported the new security measure. Sure, Dumbledore had said that the Floo lockdown would be temporary – but what if they didn’t manage to catch Sirius Black?</p>
<p>What if he’d never, in fact, been on the Hogwarts grounds in the first place?</p>
<p><i>Idiots,</i> Marvolo grumbled. <i>A word or two from that old man, and their youthful high spirits quell instantly? This is a call for open rebellion, if I’ve ever seen one.</i></p>
<p><i>This is a school, not your legion of terror,</i> Harry thought. <i>Nobody’s going to rebel over something like this.</i></p>
<p><i>I’m not saying there </i>will<i> be a rebellion. I’m saying he deserves to have one,</i> Marvolo muttered darkly. <i>That’s what you get for failing to kill dissenters – have a taste of his own medicine for once – </i></p>
<p>Harry sighed, recognizing the beginnings of another rant about the good old days. He was surprised when Marvolo broke off his rant to issue a dire warning – usually it took him at least twenty minutes to get there. <i>Watch your back around Moody,</i> Marvolo hissed. <i>He is undoubtedly already preparing for his next strike.</i></p>
<p><i>I don’t think it’s possible for him to win any more medals in the Paranoia Olympics,</i> Harry thought automatically. Still, the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. Marvolo knew what he was talking about when it came to persecution complexes, after all.</p>
<p><i>Maybe we can get Lucius Malfoy to help?</i> he suggested when Marvolo’s grumbling showed no signs of stopping. It would have to be a last resort – he didn’t want to get Draco’s dad in trouble, after all – but he was sure that the school governors would be perfectly justified in speaking up if Moody got too out of hand.</p>
<p><i>We won’t even be able to threaten him properly,</i> Marvolo said gloomily.</p>
<p><i>It’s all right,</i> Harry reassured him. Even if he couldn’t speak to Mr. Malfoy in person, the Christmas holidays would be here soon. And once he reached Draco’s house, it would be easy to pick up the Horcrux.</p>
<p>One way or another, all of his problems would soon be over.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p><i>We’re done for,</i> Marvolo moaned. <i>Finished! Thwarted! Metaphorically eviscerated! </i> Doomed!</p>
<p><i>Will you calm down for a second?</i> Harry snapped, trying and probably failing to hide his own anxiety. The situation was worse than he could ever have thought possible.</p>
<p>He’d already been nervous when Dumbledore had asked him to drop by his office after dinner. There, the Headmaster had dropped a bombshell on him – apparently, after months of no-one seeing hide nor hair of Sirius Black, someone had spotted him lurking around Hogsmeade, of all places. This dubiously accurate piece of news had predictably sent Moody into a frenzy, and the long and short of it was that Harry wouldn’t be allowed to leave the castle for the Christmas holidays after all.</p>
<p>Out of sheer frustration, Harry had tried to ask why on earth they even bothered having Aurors around, when one half-starved and more than half-crazed convict could run circles around them. Perhaps luckily, Dumbledore had interrupted him before he could finish his ill-advised question. He’d seemed to think that Harry had been asking about why Sirius Black was after him in the first place, which had elicited a look of deep sorrow and a promise that all would be revealed when Harry was older.</p>
<p>To be quite honest, Harry had stopped trying to dig into the reasons behind Black’s pursuit of him a while back. As far as he was concerned, his desire to kill Harry was explained pretty well by virtue of Black being 1) psychotic; 2) Voldemort’s minion; and 3) some sort of idiot who thought that stopping off for Butterbeer in the middle of a country-wide manhunt for him was a <i>fabulous</i> idea.</p>
<p>But Dumbledore’s obvious reluctance to discuss the issue further was puzzling. In fact, Harry was now more curious about Black than ever before. Was there something he’d missed about the man?</p>
<p>Still, any further research on Black would have to wait until later. For now, Harry would have to act while he still could.</p>
<p>He managed to shoot a sickly smile at Dawlish and walk sedately into the Slytherin common room. As soon as the secret entrance closed up behind him, he sprinted up the stairs and straight into the bathroom with only the most cursory of waves to his friends.</p>
<p>“Dobby!” Harry whispered urgently. He turned the tap on to hide the sound – Theo had been the only one in the dorm, and he’d been reading on his bed, so he was dead to the world for all intents and purposes. Still, if there was one useful thing Moody had taught him, it was that you could never be too careful. “Dobby!” he repeated, a little louder.</p>
<p>To his relief, Dobby appeared soon afterward, a bright smile on his features. The house-elf had added several new accessories to his outfit, including a bobbled hat, neon leg-warmers, and a profusion of what appeared to be monogrammed napkins tied together in some sort of makeshift garland.</p>
<p>“Does Harry Potter like Dobby’s outfit?” the house-elf squeaked. “Lucius Malfoy is giving Dobby many new clothes when he visits!” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “Dobby is thinking that Lucius Malfoy wants to make sure that Dobby does not come back…”</p>
<p>“You look great,” Harry said enthusiastically, ignoring Marvolo’s scoff. The sad, downtrodden house-elf he’d met in the Malfoy household was almost unrecognizable now – if Dobby was happy, who cared whether or not his fuzzy socks were color-coordinated with his silk tie? “Actually, I kind of wanted to ask you about Mr. Malfoy. Do you think you could drop by his house to pick something up real quick?”</p>
<p>Dobby’s ears drooped as the elf shook his head. “Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter. But Headmaster Dumbledore has forbidden the house-elves from leaving the school grounds.”</p>
<p>“What?” Harry exclaimed, horrified. “Do you think you might be able to just make one last trip out? It’s really important-“</p>
<p>Dobby drew himself up, a determined look on his features. “Headmaster Dumbledore says that this is for the safety of Harry Potter!”</p>
<p>“Well, yes, but-“</p>
<p>“Dobby will not allow Harry Potter to be hurt!” the house-elf declared, his voice shrill. “Dobby will iron his hands before he brings harm to Harry Potter!”</p>
<p><i>Can he iron them at the Malfoy Manor?</i> Marvolo asked dryly.</p>
<p><i>Can you shut up?</i> “Erm, please don’t iron your hands,” Harry said, a little worried by the earnestness in Dobby’s eyes. “Ever. It’s all right, then. I understand that you can’t leave the castle.”</p>
<p>“Dobby knew Harry Potter would understand!” the house-elf exclaimed, his wide smile returning.</p>
<p><i>It’s not all right, you imbecile,</i> Marvolo hissed as Harry waved goodbye. <i>We need that piece of my soul for our dark designs.</i></p>
<p><i>What dark designs?</i> Harry thought, exasperated. <i>You’ve had two bits of your soul sitting in the bottom of my trunk for months, now.</i></p>
<p>Somehow, Marvolo managed to mentally project the sound of his teeth grinding together. <i>They are </i>also<i> part of my dark designs, Potter. We’ve been over this.</i></p>
<p>Harry folded his arms. <i>So you’ve forgotten about them.</i></p>
<p><i>I have not </i>forgotten<i> about my Horcruxes,</i> Marvolo snapped. <i>Do you even comprehend the difficulties involved in reabsorbing a portion of the most delightfully evil piece of magic ever devised?</i></p>
<p>
  <i>You know, talking about your Horcruxes as ‘delightful’ probably doesn’t help with the whole ‘regret’ thing.</i>
</p>
<p><i>Oh, come off it, Potter,</i> Marvolo said peevishly. <i>You lost the moral high ground when you lit my – er, our enemy’s eyes on fire.</i></p>
<p>Harry winced. <i>He attacked me first!</i></p>
<p><i>Well, death attacked </i>me<i> first,</i> Marvolo declared triumphantly. While Harry was still trying to parse this failure of logic, he added: <i>Perhaps if you were to actually contribute something useful instead of sitting around making idiotic comments, I would be able to focus on my task.</i></p>
<p>Harry’s jaw dropped. Of all the unfair, nonsensical, completely <i>wrong</i> conclusions Marvolo could have made-</p>
<p>He paused for a moment as an idea struck him. <i>You know, you’re absolutely right, Marvolo,</i> he thought.</p>
<p><i>I am?</i> There was a distinct note of suspicion in Marvolo’s voice.</p>
<p><i>Yes,</i> Harry thought, working to keep his smile off his face as he exited the bathroom. <i>In fact, since tomorrow’s the weekend, I’ll be able to dedicate all day to helping you out.</i></p>
<p><i>Well,</i> Marvolo said, nonplussed. <i>Good.</i> A touch of his usual arrogance seeped into his voice once more. <i>That would be the bare minimum of effort that a proper minion should be expected to expend, of course, but I suppose that ‘praise’ must suffice in the place of Cruciatus-based encouragement.</i></p>
<p>Even this dubious praise failed to lower Harry’s spirits, buoyed as they were with dark anticipation. He restrained himself from rubbing his hands together with glee as he climbed into bed.</p>
<p>All that was left was to execute his malevolent plan.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Harry,” Hermione said, a frown creasing her features. “Why are we researching dark lords again?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you know,” Harry said innocently. “Since there’s apparently a mad dark wizard after me, I thought I’d read up on my enemy.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “That’s quite sensible, actually. To be honest, I was half-expecting you to say that you had to look up the competition, or something like that.”</p>
<p>Harry grinned. Professor Snape’s training on plausible deniability had really paid off. Hermione shot him a look of such profound skepticism that, for a moment, Harry feared that she could also read minds; to his great relief, she just sighed and reached out for the stack of books she’d brought to their table.</p>
<p>“Well, if we’re looking for escaped criminal dark wizards, there’s always Grindelwald,” she said briskly, pulling a thick tome from the pile.</p>
<p>“The Seer?”</p>
<p>Hermione frowned, flipping to the back of the book to check the index before scanning through the relevant sections at top speed. “Well, yes,” she said, sounding somewhat distracted, “but I don’t think Sirius Black could be a <i>Seer,</i> of all things. Come to think of it, they’re not really the same at all. How about Serena the Stabber? It says here that she apparently won her way to a legitimate Lordship by…knifing twelve of her political opponents and blaming it on Muggles?”</p>
<p>Harry rather agreed with Hermione that this seemed more of an indication of the intelligence of the remaining politicians than any actual mastery on the part of Serena.</p>
<p><i>Of course they were intelligent, Potter,</i> Marvolo scoffed. <i>They didn’t want to get stabbed.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Don’t wizards have shielding spells for that sort of thing?</i>
</p>
<p><i>Yes, Potter, we do,</i> Marvolo said. <i>So imagine, if you will, how alarming it would be to see twelve of your colleagues summarily dispatched by pathetic Muggle tricks.</i> He let out a haughty sniff. <i>Knives are for plebeians, after all.</i></p>
<p>They were getting a little off track here. “I was thinking more along the lines of Calafon the Hated,” Harry said.</p>
<p>“Calafon the Hated?” Hermione said, her brow wrinkling again. She picked up another book, rifling through its pages. “It says here that he could turn into a dragon as his Animagus form,” she said skeptically. “That doesn’t quite seem right-“</p>
<p>“See, now <i>that’s</i> what I call a Dark Lord,” Harry said cheerfully. “How cool would it be to be a dragon? Why, you wouldn’t even need a legion of terror to do your dark bidding!”</p>
<p><i>Nonsense,</i> Marvolo snapped, his pride pricked. <i>Why, a wizard will beat a dragon any day with a well-placed Killing Curse.</i></p>
<p>“But you can’t turn into a magical creature as your Animagus form,” Hermione argued. “It’s in <i>Transformation Through The Ages;</i> even <i>Merlin</i> couldn’t turn into a dragon-“</p>
<p>“How about Dark Lords who had really, really awesome lairs?” Harry asked. “Are there any of those?”</p>
<p>“Oh, fine,” Hermione said crossly. “Why even bother to pretend that this has anything to do with Sirius Black, anyways?”</p>
<p><i>Yes, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, his suspicion mixed with growing petulance. <i>Why </i>are<i> we here?</i></p>
<p>Harry ignored the chorus of growing complaints, waiting for Hermione to sort through the bookpile while mumbling some choice words under her breath. “Archibald the Arrogant built a castle that could apparently eat people. Is that horrifying enough for you?”</p>
<p>“Wow!” Harry said, making sure to inject as much eagerness as he possibly could into his voice. “With a lair like that, you wouldn’t even <i>need</i> chimeras! Talk about cutting out the middle man! What a forward-thinking criminal mastermind he must have been.”</p>
<p>Marvolo’s voice was flat. <i>What are you getting at, Potter?</i></p>
<p>“You know, if you were a Dark Lord – erm, Dark Lady, sorry – and your lair was just a broken-down shack, wouldn’t you feel embarrassed?” Harry continued on, now unable to keep his grin off his face. “I mean, if it were me, I’d definitely be <i>regretting</i> my life choices. Wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>
  <i>I hate you so much, Potter.</i>
</p>
<p>Hermione sighed. “Harry, have you ever thought that maybe – just maybe – you might not want to talk like that when the Aurors are around?”</p>
<p>“You’re right, Hermione,” Harry said. “In fact, I feel very sorry about that, because I am a completely normal person and have no trouble regretting things.” Marvolo’s snarl of frustration was loud enough to echo in his ears.</p>
<p>Hermione closed the book in front of her and stared at him seriously. “Do you even know what becoming a Dark Lord involves, Harry?”</p>
<p>“Erm,” he said, caught flat-footed for a moment. From what he had gathered from Marvolo’s speeches, it went something like: exuding dark malevolence, attracting a legion of terror to do your dark bidding, then getting your legion to do all the work for you while you worked on perfecting your cackle and chucking your subordinates in spike pits. “I think it involves…being charming?”</p>
<p>“Charming,” Hermione repeated, her face inscrutable.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah,” Harry said, feeling inexplicably on the defensive. “So that you can amass an army of minions and establish a stable new world order?”</p>
<p>Hermione rubbed both her hands over her face, taking a deep breath. After a moment, she sighed in resignation and reached for the books again. “So we’re just looking up famous Dark Lords, then?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,” Harry said, relieved to be back on the right footing. “And dramatic ones, too. Especially if they’re generally impressive.”</p>
<p>“That could take a while,” Hermione warned him, indicating the size of the pile on the table. Once again, wizarding society had not disappointed him – Harry would be willing to bet that the compilations on famous wizard <i>heroes</i> wouldn’t be anywhere near as thick.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” Harry said, smiling sweetly as Marvolo shrieked dire imprecations in his head. “I’ve got all day.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The researching session, despite being thoroughly satisfying for Harry, had accomplished nothing other than to finally drive Marvolo into another of his sullen silences. If he was honest with himself, Harry had started to feel a little bad for his friend about halfway through the day, but he’d been too stubborn to back down.</p>
<p>Even as he dealt out the hands for a game of Exploding Snap with Draco and Pansy, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. All of the Dark Lords in the books seemed to have an impressive array of accomplishments. Marvolo definitely had some impressive minions – Slinky and Lucius Malfoy came to mind – but where were the glorious lairs and secret treasures he had described to Harry? And if he’d been so famous, why wasn’t he in any of the history books?</p>
<p>Harry was starting to think that Marvolo might not have been completely honest about his tenure as a Dark Lord.</p>
<p>In fact, he was starting to think that Marvolo might not have been a proper Dark Lord at all.</p>
<p>Certainly, the evidence had been stacked in his friend’s favor beforehand. But he’d never <i>done</i> anything with Slinky, obviously, or there would be something written down about him terrorizing the populace with a fifty-foot snake. His so-called lair was smaller than Draco’s bathrooms. And then there were the members of Marvolo’s legion of terror. Professor Snape was a perfectly nice person – on the inside, that was – and as for Lucius Malfoy, well…</p>
<p>Perhaps there was a reason why Marvolo hadn’t wanted Harry to use his name when pretending to impersonate him.</p>
<p>Honestly, Harry didn’t quite know how to feel about that. On one hand, it was a bit of a relief – he wouldn’t have to worry about resurrecting Marvolo and then promptly getting offed by his legion of terror, considering that they were nonexistent. On the other hand, he supposed that Madagascar would be off the table after all, unless he could convince Marvolo to set up shop there together.</p>
<p>In the end, he shrugged, deciding that it didn’t really change anything. Marvolo had been his first ever friend, and he wasn’t about to forget that.</p>
<p>Even if he did turn out to be a fake Dark Lord, after all.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>A week went by, with no more progress on Marvolo’s Horcruxes than before. The idea that Marvolo could experience enough regret to merge with the soul pieces he had seemed preposterous now, although he was a solid ten out of ten on the ‘unrelenting hatred’ front. Furthermore, try as he might, Harry couldn’t figure out a way to contact Lucius Malfoy on his own.</p>
<p><i>Can’t we just wait until the summer holidays? Surely we can just get the Cup then,</i> Harry offered.</p>
<p><i>Yes, of course,</i> Marvolo said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. <i>Because Sirius Black is such a considerate criminal that he’ll make sure to get caught before your summer break.</i></p>
<p>The alarming prospect of having to deal with Moody forever aside, Harry was forced to admit that the situation could probably only go downhill from here. Whether it was a good idea or not, he had no choice but to ask Draco for help.</p>
<p>Harry had thought that he would have more questions about the whole situation. But, as soon as Harry evasively told him that it was for ‘world domination stuff,’ Draco had cheerfully gone along with the plan without any hesitation. In fact, he’d come up with more than a few helpful suggestions. It was as if he’d been waiting all along for the moment when he would be involved in one of Harry’s inadvertent escapades, and had seized upon the opportunity with both hands.</p>
<p>The plan, as it went, was actually quite good. They would send a coded letter to Lucius Malfoy, telling him to visit Hogwarts with the Cup. Draco would announce that he would be staying at the castle over the holidays, giving Draco’s dad a non-suspicious excuse to visit. </p>
<p>At first, Draco had wanted to just go and retrieve the ‘mysterious artifact’ himself; however, after experiencing the temptations of the Diadem, Harry didn’t want to put his friend in danger. Since revealing that the Cup was a bit of Marvolo’s soul was out of the question, both Draco and Harry would have to somehow distract the Aurors and sneak out to see Draco’s dad. Then, all they would have to do would be to sneak back into the castle, and Marvolo would finally have three bits of soul to hover over while still claiming that he wasn’t procrastinating.</p>
<p>They simply had to work out a few minor logistical details, and the plan would be perfect.</p>
<p>After three days of trying to figure out a suitable code, Pansy took pity on them.</p>
<p>“Boys,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll send the letter to my mother, of course. Nobody will pay close attention to <i>my</i> mail.”</p>
<p>“But what are we going to say?” Harry asked. </p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious? I’ll tell her that I heard that Draco’s planning on staying at the castle for the holidays, but that he’s griping because he forgot Harry’s present at home. She’ll promptly gossip about it to your father, who by virtue of not being a total blockhead-“ The implied <i>unlike some people</i> was quite clear. “-and thus will get the message. Problem solved,” she added, somewhat smugly.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t that seem a bit obvious?” Draco said, a little doubtfully.</p>
<p>Pansy shot him a vicious glare. “It’s obvious enough that you’ve never read one of my letters. Do you even know how much effort goes into being a <i>subtle</i> gossip?”</p>
<p>“That sounds much better than what we’d come up with,” Harry said, ignoring Draco’s look of betrayal. “But we’ll need a plan to distract the Aurors, too.”</p>
<p>“That’ll be difficult,” Pansy admitted. “Why can’t Draco just go pick this artifact up for you?”</p>
<p>Harry couldn’t very well admit that his presence might be needed so that he could blackmail Draco’s dad with the basilisk again, if it came down to it. Luckily, Draco intervened on his behalf. “Because it’s an adventure, obviously.”</p>
<p>“Oh, an <i>adventure,</i>” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “My goodness. Why didn’t I think of that?”</p>
<p>“Can you help us?” Harry asked hurriedly. “Please? You’re really good at this sort of thing.”</p>
<p>“I do so like flattery,” Pansy said, a pleased smile hovering on her lips. “Of course I’ll help you, Harry! Let’s say you’ll owe me a small favor in return?”</p>
<p>“Hope you’re not too attached to your soul,” Draco muttered.</p>
<p>“Works for me,” Harry said immediately, before she could have the chance to think too hard about why he needed a dark artifact from Draco’s dad in the first place.</p>
<p>“Great,” Pansy said, her smile widening. “Now, as for your question, distracting the Aurors is quite simple.”</p>
<p>“It is?” Harry said.</p>
<p>“You have an Invisibility Cloak, don’t you?” Pansy pointed out. “It’s not like the Aurors follow you into the toilets, or into our dorm. If you and Draco can stash a broom somewhere, then sneak out under the cloak, it’ll be easy enough to nip out and back in. If you’re quick about it, of course. And if the Aurors happen to be distracted by – say, a loud fight, right in front of them-“</p>
<p>“That’s not a bad plan,” Draco admitted. “Whose broom are we going to use? I’m not leaving my Nimbus in a random loo.”</p>
<p>Harry was quite in agreement on that front. Besides, no matter how quick they were, there was surely a reasonable amount of time that someone could be expected to spend in the loo, and executing a devious plan would probably exceed that window.</p>
<p>The three of them put their heads together and conferred. It would probably have been easier if they were in one of the tower dorms, with windows leading directly outside; however, the Slytherin dorms being under the lake, leaving directly from the dorm was highly inadvisable. </p>
<p>In the end, they decided that Draco would wait somewhere with Harry’s Nimbus, while Harry himself would make a show of entering the dorm to go to bed. Shortly after, Pansy would engineer some sort of spectacle, ensuring that the secret passageway would open and allow Harry to slip out beneath the Cloak. Then, they’d fly out, fly back in, and have Draco stroll back in while an invisible Harry walked in beside him.</p>
<p><i>This might possibly be the best-laid plan we have ever made,</i> Marvolo said, his voice still sullen. <i>My life has become a farce.</i> 

</p><p>Harry decided to be charitable and interpret this as a compliment. After all, at least his friend was talking to him again.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“How about that one over there?” Harry whispered to his friends, inclining his head towards the large window above them. Where Draco went, Crabbe and Goyle usually followed; as such, all five of them strolled around the grounds at a leisurely pace, scouting out the terrain. The two goons lurked in the back, forming a human wall to block the vision of the two Aurors following them several paces behind.</p>
<p>Pansy squinted upward, trying to make out the window’s shape through the driving snow. “It’s isolated enough, but I’m more concerned about where you two ought to meet up. It’d be better if we get out of this horrid weather and find an abandoned classroom – somewhere Draco won’t be caught loitering by that Squib, Filch.”</p>
<p>“We’ll also have to figure out where to meet Father,” Draco mused. “I mean, we don’t want him to stroll up to the front gates as casually as you please, do we? Perhaps he can Apparate into the Forest.”</p>
<p>“There’s a clearing not too far past Hagrid’s hut that would make a good meeting place,” Harry offered, thinking of the place where he’d lured Mr. Malfoy all those months ago.</p>
<p>“If it’s not too far into the Forest, it should be all right,” Draco said, although he looked a little worried at the prospect. “Father should be able to hold off any dangerous creatures, after all. Did I ever tell you about the time my grandfather, Abraxus Malfoy-“</p>
<p>“I think so,” Harry said hurriedly, before Draco could launch into the Thestral story again. “It’ll be all right, though. The Forest is pretty quiet in that area, so there shouldn’t be anything dangerous there.” Slinky would make sure of it.</p>
<p>“Oh?” Pansy said, arching an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Potter,” a deep voice growled. Harry froze in his tracks, his gaze slowly travelling upward until he met Professor Snape’s furious eyes. “How <i>do</i> you know that?”</p>
<p>“I can explain-“ Harry began, then clamped his mouth shut at the look on Professor Snape’s face.</p>
<p>“I would think <i>very</i> carefully about your next words, Potter.” Snape loomed menacingly forward, emerging from the snow with enough sheer malice to earn him a place in the annals of dark wizardry. “Have you set foot in the Forbidden Forest this year?”</p>
<p>“I actually haven’t!” Harry said, relieved. Setting foot in the Forest over the summer didn’t count, of course. “You can ask the Aurors! They’ve been following me everywhere; they can vouch for me.”</p>
<p>Snape turned his disbelieving scowl onto the Aurors, who, to their credit, met his gaze more-or-less without flinching. “It’s true,” the short woman on the right said. “Mr. Potter hasn’t left the castle grounds once since we began watching him.”</p>
<p>Snape’s eyes narrowed. “And before that?” He swiveled his head, frowning. “And what is that infernal noise-“</p>
<p>Before Harry was forced to open his mouth again and risk verbal – and possibly literal – evisceration, he was miraculously saved by over fifty pounds of shaggy black dog, barreling into him at half the speed of the average mountain troll.</p>
<p>“Bad dog!” he heard someone yelp. Was that <i>Weasley?</i> Harry managed to dodge the dog, who was licking his face with what seemed to be single-minded enthusiasm, for long enough to spot a telltale flash of red hair rounding the corner of the castle. “Sit! Stay! Get back here, you daft-“ Weasley’s face drained of color as he spotted Snape and the Aurors.</p>
<p>“Stay back,” Auror Williamson said grimly. To his horror, Harry saw that his wand was in his hand, pointed unerringly towards the dog. “I’ll handle this.”</p>
<p>“Hold on!” Harry twisted around, trying to put himself between Williamson and the unfortunate animal. “It’s just a dog – it doesn’t mean any harm-“</p>
<p>“Stand aside!” Williamson barked. Harry stayed exactly where he was. He was rather gratified to see Crabbe and Goyle doing their best to block him, as well.</p>
<p>“Enough,” Snape said, his voice as cold as the grave. “Unless you aim to protect the boy from Sirius Black by killing him first.”</p>
<p>“I’m really sorry,” Weasley babbled, vainly trying to pull the dog back by the scruff of its neck. “He’s just a stray, honestly – Neville and I have been trying to take him for walks on the sly, but he’s not well-trained yet.”</p>
<p>The Auror’s wand wavered, but he didn’t lower it. “Then why did it dash at Potter?” he demanded.</p>
<p>Snape’s lip curled. “I see that the vaunted Auror corps lives up to its name. Why, indeed, should a dog behave like a dog? Truly, a mystery for the ages.”</p>
<p>“Just back off, you berk,” the other Auror hissed. “There’s no need to go all Mad-Eye on it. Do you <i>want</i> another incident?”</p>
<p>Williamson shook his head stubbornly. “Isn’t it odd, that a stray would happen to wander onto the Hogwarts grounds and make a beeline straight for Potter?“ Snape looked over at it, a suspicious frown beginning to crease his brow.</p>
<p>“It’s my dog!” Harry blurted out. “It – erm, he dashed at me because he’s my dog!”</p>
<p>He could only hope that Draco and Pansy’s disbelieving stares weren’t as obvious as the ones that Snape and the Aurors trained on him. “Potter, even for you, that is a transparent lie-“</p>
<p>“I found him on the camping grounds where I went over the summer,” he said, his mind racing. “And then, when I went to Draco’s house, well-“</p>
<p>“We hid him in the third croquet shed,” Draco cut in smoothly. “Father and Mother would never allow me to have something so plebeian as a <i>dog,</i> so we hid it in the middle of peacock territory.”</p>
<p>“Right!” Harry said, giving Draco a grateful look. “And then we couldn’t just leave him there, so we – erm, I mean, I smuggled him into Hogwarts.”</p>
<p>“Where it was evidently mistaken for a stray, so Weasley’s been taking care of it ever since,” Draco finished, looking as casual as if he had been talking about the weather.</p>
<p>“It’s true, sir,” Pansy said sweetly, giving the Aurors a disarming smile. “I played with him when I visited the Manor over the summer. He’s really a darling, once you get to know him.”</p>
<p>Snape looked unimpressed, his gaze drifting over to where Weasley had finally managed to drag the dog, whining all the way, to heel. “Since it is <i>your</i> dog, Potter,” he said silkily, “I presume that you will have no problems calling it.”</p>
<p>“Calling it?” Harry repeated dumbly.</p>
<p>“Yes, Potter,” Snape said, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Unless you claim to be so incompetent as to have the dog remain feral after five months, in which case it would be better suited for use as potion ingredients.”</p>
<p>Harry wracked his brains, desperately casting about for ideas. The one memory that shot to the forefront of his mind was a dreary winter day in Mrs. Figg’s house, attempting to corral her herd of cats-</p>
<p>“Come here, Mr. Fluffermittens!” he said, stretching out his hands and making loud smacking noises with his lips. “Who’s a good Mr. Fluffermittens? You are! Yes, you! Come here!”</p>
<p><i>The Muggles were right,</i> Marvolo mused. <i>There truly </i>is <i>a hell.</i></p>
<p>Harry could feel Draco’s judgmental gaze boring into his back. Even the dog seemed to eye him askance for a moment, in which Harry’s heart felt as if it was plummeting from the Astronomy Tower. Then, in another miracle, the dog slowly sauntered over towards Harry, licked his hand once, and sat down at his feet.</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence.</p>
<p>“You named your dog…Mister Fluffermittens,” Snape said slowly, enunciating every syllable as if he were pronouncing a death warrant.</p>
<p>“Erm…yes,” Harry said, still not quite able to believe his luck. “Why, what was I supposed to name him?”</p>
<p>“Literally anything else,” Draco hissed from behind him.</p>
<p>“Don’t listen to him, Harry,” Pansy said. “I think it’s quite a nice name.”</p>
<p>Snape stared at him for a moment longer, his face unreadable, before rounding on Williamson. “There you have it,” he snapped. “Unless you believe that Potter is in grave danger of contracting rabies, the main threat to the boy at the moment appears to be…you.”</p>
<p>Williamson hastily lowered his wand as if scalded. “Yes, well,” he blustered. “Had to be careful – can never be too sure-“</p>
<p>Just as Harry thought they were off the hook, Snape whirled around towards him again. “Dogs are not allowed as pets at Hogwarts. You will get rid of…” He gestured towards the dog, apparently unwilling to repeat his name. “Of <i>it,</i> immediately.”</p>
<p>Harry sensed blood in the water. He put on his most piteous expression, widening his eyes. “But, sir,” he protested. “Poor Mr. Fluffermittens was in such an awful state when I found him. You wouldn’t let Mr. Fluffermittens die out there, all alone, would you?”</p>
<p>“Potter,” Snape hissed warningly.</p>
<p>“Father and I can vouch for the dog,” Draco said, the very picture of earnestness.</p>
<p>“Me, too, Professor!” Pansy said, adding her voice to the chorus.</p>
<p>“Hagrid would take such great care of Mr. Fluffermittens,” Harry continued. “And he’d be good for morale – and if I’ve got to take care of him, I wouldn’t have time to do anything dangerous, like experiment with rejuvenation potions-“</p>
<p>Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “You are lucky that your particular brand of idiocy appears to be catching, Potter. You may send it to Hagrid,” he said grudgingly. “If it sets foot in the Slytherin common room, I will dissect it myself.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, sir!” Harry exclaimed happily. “You’re the best!”</p>
<p>Snape physically recoiled from this pronouncement, his face twisting. “Detention this weekend, Potter!”</p>
<p>“Could it be on Sunday? I’ve got Quidditch practice on Saturdays – it’d interfere with the Slytherin team’s chances at victory-“</p>
<p>“Do not push your luck, Potter,” Snape hissed as he stalked away, his robes billowing behind him.</p>
<p>That probably meant that the detention would be on Sunday, after Snape had time to think up a suitable pretext to change the date. The professor was quite nice that way, as long as he was allowed to pretend that he wasn't.</p>
<p>“Erm, thanks,” Weasley said, somewhat self-consciously, as soon as Snape was safely out of earshot. “We’ve been trying to keep him in the dorms – Percy’s been distracted with something – but you’ve got to walk dogs, and he keeps getting away from me and dashing all over the castle. Keeps trying to get into the dungeons, if you can believe it.”</p>
<p>“It’s no problem,” Harry said. The dog seemed a lot friendlier than Aunt – than <i>Marge’s</i> dogs had been. Tentatively, he reached down to scratch between its ears, and was rewarded with a pleased huff. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that his Auror guards had retreated, and were loudly having it out several meters away. Still, he lowered his voice as he asked: “Where did you find him, anyway?”</p>
<p>Weasley looked somewhat grim as he gestured towards the dog’s fur, which seemed rather ragged. “I think he was caught in that fire Mad-Eye Moody set. I was just going to give him some food, but he looked so awful that I couldn’t just leave him.”</p>
<p>Harry felt a fresh wave of anger at Moody. He’d caused such a commotion, and the only thing he’d managed to hurt had been an innocent dog? Perhaps that Skeeter person had been right about the Aurors being incompetent, if this was the sort of result that they considered acceptable.</p>
<p>If Harry ever <i>did</i> manage to take over the world, this sort of thing would be the first on his list to fix. No dark lord would ever get anywhere if their minions couldn’t manage basic reasoning for them, after all.</p>
<p>They managed to make it most of the way to Hagrid’s hut before Weasley and Draco’s usual squabble resumed. With Pansy there to fan the flames, Harry suspected that this fight would last longer than usual. Perhaps Weasley was meant to be their distraction, although Harry rather hoped not – he seemed like a nice enough person, once you got past the whole blood-feud-with-Draco thing.</p>
<p>He smiled as he patted Mr. Fluffermittens’ head, happy that he’d managed to save an innocent dog from the depredations of the Aurors. He couldn’t help but feel that this was a good omen for their plans to retrieve the Cup.</p>
<p>The problem of Sirius Black could wait for another day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was *meant* to be a short chapter, according to my outline. This might bode ill for the next few chapters, considering how many notes I have on them! Or perhaps it works the opposite way. I suppose we'll see :P</p>
<p>Once again, thanks to the amazing Duinemerwen! The idea for Harry and Hermione's glorious Marvolo-bashing session is all thanks to her :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Mind Over Matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Christmas crept up on the castle like a lethifold, blanketing Hogwarts in a flurry of snowball fights and last-minute owl orders. Although Blaise had acted rather aloof when he’d heard that Draco and Pansy would be staying at the castle for the holidays, Harry thought that he was secretly quite pleased to have the extra company. At the very least, the three of them would make useful guinea pigs for the book of complicated grooming charms that he’d bought for Blaise.</p><p>“It’s rather eerie, seeing the castle this empty,” Pansy said, glancing around the Slytherin common room. “A bit disconcerting, really.”</p><p>“Better for our purposes,” Draco said, a satisfied smirk spreading across his features. Harry was starting to get a little worried about the frequency of these smirks, which had increased exponentially since they had begun plotting; he could only hope that Draco’s face would go back to normal once the plan had been executed.</p><p>“Everything is ready to go,” Pansy said confidently. “All you boys have to do is stick to the plan.”</p><p>“What’s the distraction, by the way?” Harry asked, looking up from the package of powdered Graphorn horn that he’d carefully wrapped for Professor Snape. He’d remembered at the last minute to add an earnest note explaining that this was very much not a Christmas present, but a blatant attempt at bribery. He hoped that this would appease the Professor’s delicate sensibilities.</p><p>Pansy smiled, seeming very pleased with herself. “Oh, you’ll see.”</p><p>Draco shot Harry a dubious look, but, to his immense relief, refrained from saying anything.</p><p><i>Just remember, if you have to curse an Auror or two, you can always blame it on Sirius Black,</i> Marvolo advised him. <i>You do know the Memory Charm, yes?</i></p><p><i>We won’t need to curse anyone,</i> Harry thought confidently. Together, he and his friends had come up with several useful excuses to explain their presence in a non-suspicious manner. And besides, Harry had an ace up his sleeve.</p><p>Mr. Fluffermittens’ presence had been a blessing in disguise for their underhanded plots. Harry still didn’t get to see the dog, or Hagrid, as much as he would have liked; still, under the pretext of taking care of a pet, the Aurors had at last allowed Harry to go visit Hagrid’s hut and take his dog for walks. Even better, they stayed outside during the visits. This meant that Harry had been able to secure Slinky’s help. She would be waiting at the ready to threaten Lucius Malfoy, just in case things went south.</p><p>Yes, Harry thought, smiling to himself. With all of this preparation, there was absolutely no chance of things going wrong.</p><p>***</p><p>Harry had thought that he was an early riser, especially compared to the rest of his dormmates. Still, he quickly discovered that he hadn’t a patch on Draco when it came to Christmas morning.</p><p>“What are you still doing in bed, Harry?” his friend demanded. Harry cracked his curtains open to peer blearily at Draco, who was already investigating his enormous pile of presents with rapturous glee.</p><p>“Ugh. What time is it?” Blaise groaned, pulling his pillow over his face as a shield.</p><p>“Oh, don’t be <i>gauche,</i> Blaise,” Draco said impatiently as he dug through his pile of presents. “Time doesn’t matter; it’s Christmas!”</p><p>Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sliding his glasses onto his face. He’d have liked to brush his teeth before opening his presents, at least, but Draco’s enthusiasm was somewhat infectious.</p><p><i>”Someone</i> has to have given me a book of curses,” Blaise grumbled. “I’ll hex the lot of you, I will. As soon as I get out of bed, that is.”</p><p>Draco ignored him. “Yes!” he crowed, hoisting the official Kenmare Kestrels Quaffle that Harry had bought for him in the air. “Nice one, Harry!”</p><p>“Glad you like it,” Harry said, grinning. The smile slowly slid from his face as he stared at his own pile of gifts, an odd sense of trepidation swirling in his gut. Most of the presents were lavishly or at least carefully wrapped, which ruled most of them out. There was one that seemed to have been shoved rather hastily in newspapers, but it was a <i>parcel,</i> so that couldn’t be from them.</p><p>He reached out for the only present that might have been from the Dursleys, a severe-looking large brown envelope. The note scrawled across its surface put paid to that idea immediately.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Potter,</p>
  <p>I expect a detailed writeup on safety concerns associated with <i>each</i> of these potions. It is an ongoing source of disappointment that I have to explicitly state this, but by ‘safety concerns’, I mean precautions which would NOT result in death, maiming, or any spell damage sufficient to incapacitate for longer than twenty-four hours.</p>
</blockquote><p>The note was unsigned, but it didn’t really need to be. Harry couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face as he opened the envelope to reveal another thick sheaf of Potions notes from Professor Snape. Seized by a burst of enthusiasm, he tore open the rest of the packages from his friends, revealing a deluxe broomstick servicing kit from Draco, an interactive puzzle-game from Pansy that claimed to ‘improve your skill at cunning plots tenfold!’, an enchanted ‘Instant Hairdo’ kit from Blaise, and a book on architectural design from Hermione.</p><p>Since it was Christmas, Harry magnanimously refrained from using this gift to tease Marvolo.</p><p>To his delight, Dobby had gifted him a pair of glow-in-the-dark socks, which Harry donned immediately. He couldn’t wait to see how the house-elf would wear the brightly colored set of kerchiefs that Harry had bought for him. To his surprise, Percy had also gotten him a small cauldron, thick-bottomed enough to meet the Gryffindor prefect’s exacting standards. He was quite relieved that he’d thought to buy a set of quills for the older boy.</p><p>It was almost a perfect Christmas. There was only one thing that was missing.</p><p>Before meeting Marvolo, Harry had never received birthday gifts. But, even though he’d stared at Dudley’s heaps of presents with envy, he’d always received one gift from the Dursleys at Christmas. Twenty pounds, usually – a bit impersonal, but he’d always felt grateful that they’d taken the time to include him.</p><p>He’d held on to the strange thought that, even though they had left him behind, they would send him <i>something</i> for Christmas this year, as well. Perhaps just a note, with directions to a secret dropbox where Harry could send them mail – or perhaps just a scrap of paper saying that they were fine, and not to worry about them.</p><p>But here, in the Slytherin dorms, surrounded on one side by all of the wonderful and personalized gifts he’d received and on the other by some sort of declaration of war between Draco and Blaise, he couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed. So what if he didn’t have a family? He had friends, and that was more than good enough.</p><p>
  <i>I assume that my Horcrux - which I already own, by the way - is to be my tribute,</i>
</p><p>Marvolo sniffed.</p><p><i>The plan counts as a gift, doesn't it?</i> Harry thought, somewhat unsure. <i>I mean, it's sort of like our tradition at this point.</i></p><p><i>Two years does not a tradition make, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, although Harry thought that he sounded pleased.</p><p>
  <i>What did you get me, then?</i>
</p><p>Marvolo sighed. <i>I suppose that I can refrain from insulting you for one day,</i> he said grudgingly. <i>Unless we all die, of course. Or unless I really, really want to.</i></p><p>Harry grinned. Maybe Marvolo was starting to grow a heart, after all.</p><p>“Say, what’s that one?” Draco said, pointing towards the odd parcel that Harry had left untouched while he reflected. He dodged the pillow that Blaise threw at him with practiced ease, idly flicking one of Goyle’s abandoned socks back at his opponent.</p><p>“Oh,” Harry said, startled. “I dunno, actually.” He reached out, pulling the layers of paper back-</p><p>“Merlin’s beard!” Blaise shrieked, the fight with Draco momentarily forgotten. “Is that a <i>dragonhide</i> jacket?”</p><p>Harry picked up the garment in question, somewhat bemused. There was no denying that it looked ludicrously cool. Even with his limited fashion sense, he could tell that its cut was elegant, and the shimmering black scales had a greenish tint that rather reminded him of Slinky.</p><p>“You ought to wear that under your robes the next time you duel someone,” Draco said.</p><p>Harry blinked. “So that I look cool while I execute my disproportionate retribution?”</p><p>“That, too,” Draco said, smirking. “But it’s supposed to repel most spells. They’re quite rare, really. Even <i>I</i> don’t have one.”</p><p>“They’re quite expensive, too, even by Draco’s standards,” Blaise said thoughtfully. “I wonder who gave it to you?”</p><p>Harry slipped the jacket over his pyjamas, twisting around to try and see how it looked. <i>Is that true, about dragonhide blocking spells?</i></p><p><i>Only fools and hedge magicians need to block spells,</i> Marvolo sniffed. Real <i>dark wizards kill their opponents before they can cast any spells in the first place.</i></p><p>So Marvolo hadn’t been able to afford one, either. It sounded like what Draco was saying was correct, though. To his surprise, the paper had also concealed a pair of finely wrought Quidditch goggles; to his even greater astonishment, there was a dial on the side that controlled the prescription of the lenses.</p><p>“Nice,” Draco said appreciatively as Harry slid them over his forehead. “Well? Was there a card?”</p><p>Harry rifled through the packaging some more, but was unable to find anything. “That’s odd,” he said, frowning. “Maybe it was the same person who gave me the Invisibility Cloak last year?”</p><p>“Probably,” Blaise said, shrugging. “Better not tell Moody, though. With your luck, he’ll claim it’s from Sirius Black or something.”</p><p>The three boys snickered for a moment. Then, the laughter trailed off as they stared suspiciously at the presents.</p><p><i>You haven’t exploded yet,</i> Marvolo said, conveying the mental equivalent of a shrug.</p><p>“Well, it’s too late now,” Harry said, although he peeled the jacket and goggles off just in case. If his skin melted off over the next couple of weeks, he’d have to come up with some sort of story to tell Madam Pomfrey. “Hey, at least with that kit you gave me, I’ll look great! I’ll never have to do my hair again.”</p><p>“So, no difference to your normal routine, then,” Blaise said. Harry chucked his pillow at him.</p><p>By the time enough carnage had been wrought for the three of them to judge the bout a tie, Harry still hadn’t spontaneously combusted, so he supposed that the jacket and goggles hadn’t been cursed after all. Still, he decided to give it some time before using the jacket again. If all went well, there wouldn’t be any need to cast spells tonight.</p><p>***</p><p>“Professor Snape keeps glaring at you,” Pansy murmured out of the corner of her mouth. Her worried tone was at odds with the wide smile plastered on her face. “Do you think he knows something?”</p><p>“He’s probably just mad about my Christmas bribe,” Harry whispered back. He didn’t dare glance at the High Table, where Snape’s expression would no doubt be terrifying to behold. Perhaps he should also have gone with something personalized?</p><p>“I suppose so,” Pansy said, although she didn’t sound quite convinced. “Perhaps he’ll get over it by suppertime.”</p><p>Snape, unfortunately, showed no signs of ‘getting over it.’ Even though the four of them showed admirable restraint in not running amok with their Christmas presents – Pansy, in particular, couldn’t wait to try out the Forgery Quills Harry had bought for her – Snape’s suspicion only continued to crystallize further throughout the course of the day. By the time they got to the evening feast, the Potions Professor’s dark scowl was firmly and permanently fixed on the back of Harry’s head.</p><p>“Nothing for it,” Draco whispered, somehow managing to smirk in a determined fashion. “Father will be on his way in an hour or so. We’ll just have to be extra careful not to get caught.”</p><p>“Good luck, everyone,” Harry said, disguising his statement with a conspicuous swig of pumpkin juice.</p><p>“I’ll go first, to set up the distraction,” Pansy said. “Don’t get caught, boys!” With that reassuring farewell, she was gone.</p><p>Draco gave it ten minutes, his fingers tapping impatiently beneath the table, before he followed her, tossing one final smirk at Harry before he left.</p><p>It was left up to Harry to hold the Aurors’ attention while the alcohol really began to flow at the teachers’ table. It didn’t help that Marvolo had decided to helpfully run through a list of all of the murderous curses he knew, ‘just in case.’ At the very least, it kept Harry from focusing too hard on the task before him.</p><p>He was gratified to note that the Christmas spirit was in full swing at Hogwarts. When he finally rose from the table and meandered towards the doorway, the only teacher who seemed to take any note of his departure was Snape. Even the Aurors’ reactions as they moved to follow him seemed delayed, which could only be a good sign.</p><p>Harry’s casual walk continued until he reached the Slytherin common room, meeting Pansy’s eyes as she gave him a significant nod from one of the sofas. He fancied that he could hear shouts begin to erupt as he dashed up the stairs and pulled his Cloak around his body, although he figured that this must have been his imagination.</p><p>When he got back down the stairs, it was abundantly clear that he had not been imagining things.</p><p>The passageway out of the Slytherin common room was wide open as a group of students flowed out to catch a glimpse of the pitched battle occurring in the hallway. It would be a tight squeeze, but Harry figured that he could sneak out at the tail end of the line. He caught snatches of conversation as he crept along.</p><p>“-thought they liked each other-“</p><p>“-but dating <i>three</i> at once? What was Montague thinking?”</p><p>“Never mind that, what I want to know is how he had the <i>time</i>-“</p><p>Harry emerged onto a scene of absolute chaos. Dawlish and Wilkins had interspersed themselves in the midst of three upper-year Slytherins, all bearing the marks of a frenzied duel, while a dozen students all surrounded the spectacle, clamoring to get a better view. He couldn’t spot Pansy anywhere in the crowd, although his view was rather impaired by the necessity of flattening himself against the wall to avoid detection. He hoped that no-one would tread on his Cloak as he slowly inched along. It seemed as if the distraction had almost run its course, but he just had a few more feet to go-</p><p>“Well, that’s settled,” Dawlish barked, clear irritation in his tone. “Now, if you’d all go back to your common room-“</p><p>That was when Montague rounded the corner, his eyes widening in horror as all three of his paramours swiveled to stare at him.</p><p>And then the corridor exploded into chaos once again. One boy took off running after Montague, who, after staring in pure shock for a few seconds, turned and fled with impressive alacrity; the two girls followed soon after, shrieking hexes at the top of their lungs as Wilkins shouted something about hating children, while a beleaguered Dawlish did his best to put up shields.</p><p>Harry took this as his cue to leave. He had no idea how Pansy had managed to arrange all of this, but he was pretty certain that he could probably have made it out of the common room even without his Invisibility Cloak, with all the hubbub.</p><p>He rather pitied poor Montague when Snape found out about this, though.</p><p>From there, it was smooth sailing for everyone but Montague. The halls were utterly deserted, and Harry made it to the spare classroom where Draco waited in record time. They covered as much of the broom as they could with the Cloak, squeezed through the window, and touched down in the appointed meeting place within minutes.</p><p>Lucius Malfoy’s eyes widened in a momentary expression of panic as his son emerged from beneath the Cloak. “Draco? What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be gauche, Father!” Draco declared, flashing his best smirk. “I’m Harry’s second-in-command, of course. Taught him everything he knows.”</p><p>From the look on his face, being ‘gauche’ was the least of Lucius Malfoy’s concerns. He turned somewhat stiffly towards Harry, who hadn’t quite been able to decide whether to attempt a smirk or not. In the end, he decided that Draco had far more practice than he did; any comparison would not be in Harry’s favor. He did his best to keep his face still as his minion, once-removed, walked over to him.</p><p>“Your mother will hear of this,” Mr. Malfoy hissed at Draco, which erased the smirk completely. Harry struggled to keep his sympathetic wince from reaching his features. Lucius Malfoy, with another sidelong glance at his son, handed over a somewhat bulky package, wrapped in yards of silken material. “I should hope that my service has not been so unsatisfactory as to necessitate my son’s involvement,” Mr. Malfoy said, his voice rather strained. Behind him, Draco made a face.</p><p><i>Lucius seems to be inexplicably attached to his offspring,</i> Marvolo mused. <i>The implicit threat will work well to keep him in line-</i></p><p>“Don’t worry,” Harry said reassuringly. “Draco’s safe with me.”</p><p>Mr. Malfoy didn’t look reassured in the slightest, his face paling further. <i>What is wrong with you, Potter?</i> Marvolo demanded. <i>You’re lucky I’ve trained him well enough to assume everything I say is a threat. If the torture curses don’t start flying sooner rather than later, though, I make no promises regarding his loyalty.</i></p><p>Harry could only hope that he wouldn’t be stringing Mr. Malfoy on long enough for that to become a problem. Somehow, he managed to ignore Marvolo, murmur his thanks in a suitably imperious fashion, and remain impassive until Lucius Malfoy had backed away, glanced at Draco one last time, and Disapparated.</p><p>“He must really approve of whatever you’re plotting,” Draco said, peering at the spot where his father had vanished. “Or I suppose you could have blackmailed him. Come to think of it, <i>are</i> you blackmailing Father?”</p><p>“Erm. No?” Harry said, rather weakly.</p><p>“You really are!” Draco said, delighted. “Can you blackmail him not to tell Mother on me, then?”</p><p>Harry’s jaw dropped. “Hang on, you really don’t mind that I’m blackmailing your dad?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Draco said dismissively. “Father says I blackmail him all the time, only it’s emotional blackmail, so it’s all right.”</p><p>“Right,” Harry said slowly. “Well, I mean…it’s not that I don’t <i>want</i> to, it’s just –“</p><p>“The post!” Draco groaned. “Of course, you’ll never get a letter to him in time, with the Aurors searching everything.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, that’s all right, then. I’m sure she’ll forget all about it by summer.”</p><p>Harry nodded, still feeling a little dazed. “I’m glad that’s all right, then.”</p><p>“I never said otherwise,” Draco said loftily. Grinning, he shook the Cloak out, pulling it over his head. “Wonder if we’ll be able to fit that package under here, too? What’s in it, by the way-?”</p><p>And that was where everything began to go wrong.</p><p>The first warning was a loud, sibilant hiss; the second was the loud cracking of twigs and tree branches, moving closer and closer towards them. *No, stop!* he shouted desperately, but it was too late.</p><p>Slinky burst through a gap in the trees, letting out a loud hiss of joy. *Massster! Alone at lasssst!*</p><p>The sound of hissing was instantly obliterated by a high-pitched scream so loud that it was probably audible from the bottom of the lake. “Draco, stop!” Harry yelled. “This isn’t what it looks like!”</p><p>“Is it a basilisk, Harry?” Draco shrieked. “Because it looks a lot like a HUNDRED-FOOT LONG SNAKE!”</p><p>*It is noisy, master. Is it food?* Slinky hissed, sounding far too hopeful for Harry’s liking.</p><p>*No! No, he is not!* Harry hissed back. *We do not eat people!*</p><p>*It does not smell like people,* Slinky argued.</p><p>The sound of screaming had abruptly stopped. Harry turned to catch sight of Draco peeking out beneath the cloak, a stunned look on his face. “Harry…you’re a Parselmouth?”</p><p>Harry was incredibly grateful that Draco hadn’t understood a word of that conversation. “Yes! Yes, I am. And this is Slinky – she’s harmless, really. See, her eyes are closed-“</p><p>But Draco didn’t seem to hear a word of it. He looked back and forth between Slinky and Harry, awe slowly creeping into his voice. “You – you’re the Heir of Slytherin!”</p><p>“Well,” Harry said, wincing, “that’s technically not-“</p><p>But Draco paid him no heed. His prior panic was seemingly forgotten as he proceeded to wax lyrical about Salazar Slytherin’s bloodline and his grand plans for preserving the integrity of the wizarding world. Harry hadn’t the heart to tell him what had become of his beloved founder’s lair – or, more specifically, the not-so-grand entrance to said lair – so he did his best to nod and smile along.</p><p>“Listen, Draco,” he said, when he could at last manage to get a word in edgewise. “You can’t tell anyone else about this, all right?”</p><p>“Well, of course not!” Draco snapped, insulted. “Who do you take me for, Martin Miggs?”</p><p>“Who?” Harry asked, bewildered.</p><p>“You know! Martin Miggs, The Mad Mu-“ Draco cut off abruptly, flushing. “Ah, well, no-one really – it’s just a stupid children’s book –“</p><p>“Right,” Harry said. Whoever this Martin Miggs was, he would have to wait until later. With every minute that went by, the chances of them being caught ticked upward.</p><p>To Harry great relief – and Marvolo’s immense shock, which Harry thought was a bit unfair – the second half of the plan went off even more smoothly than the first. It was a bit of a struggle, holding onto the Nimbus with one hand and the Cup with the other while he and Draco did their best to tuck all of their limbs in, but they made it back into the castle with no-one the wiser. With five minutes to spare before curfew, Draco sauntered into the common room with the Nimbus tucked under his arm, an invisible Harry passing undetected beside him.</p><p><i>Now you can finally focus on trying to regret things, I hope,</i> Harry thought.</p><p><i>A simple enough task for me,</i> Marvolo said arrogantly. <i>Although it would perhaps help if I were to recover my last Horcrux before-</i></p><p><i>If you finish that thought, I swear I’ll make you sit around while I read one of Tracey’s romance novels cover-to-cover,</i> Harry warned him. This might not have had the same impact as one of his friend’s beloved Cruciatuces, but it accomplished the same effect well enough.</p><p>The three of them celebrated discreetly in the Great Hall over breakfast the next morning, Blaise having  elected to do the sensible thing on a holiday and sleep in. More than a few professors were absent from the High Table, Snape being one of them; the Aurors, at least, seemed to be back to their usual level of alertness. For once, Harry couldn’t bring himself to mind.</p><p>“We ought to take it easy today,” Draco declared. “Merlin, I never knew plotting could be so exhausting!”</p><p>Harry quite agreed. He was beginning to understand why Marvolo was so keen on the benefits of delegation. More than that, he was also relieved that Draco had finally stopped going on about the whole ‘Heir of Slytherin’ business; this was, apparently, a Very Big Deal, and factored heavily into Draco’s plans for how Harry ought to take over the world.</p><p>“If the two of you manage to drag Blaise out of bed before noon, we could try a pick-up game of Quidditch,” Pansy suggested.</p><p>“Capital idea,” Draco said, perking up. Harry hadn’t known that it was even <i>possible</i> for Draco to be so bright and chipper in the mornings. “Did you want to hex his eyebrows off, Harry, or should I?”</p><p>“I’d like to live, thank you very much,” Harry said. He’d seen Blaise up in arms about his hair only once in the past two years, and had no desire to repeat the experience. Draco snickered, but agreed that a jet of water ought to suffice for the task.</p><p>On their way back to the Common room, Snape materialized from around a corner as if he had been lying in wait. He looked very much as if he hadn’t slept in seven days, and all of those seven days had been spent coming up with new and exciting ways to murder people.</p><p>“Potter,” Snape snarled, his wild gaze fixating on Harry. “I know you had something to do with the rampant idiocy that was on display last night.”</p><p>“Why me?” Harry protested. He knew that Pansy had arranged for Montague’s two-timing – or triple-timing, rather – to be exposed, but it seemed to Harry that the older boy had managed to be an idiot all by himself.</p><p>Snape’s lip curled. “No matter how flawed Mr. Montague’s decision-making skills are, he is not such an idiot as to arrange a liaison with three people at the same time and promptly forget about having done so. That level of stupidity is inherent within only one person within this madhouse.”</p><p>Harry frowned, torn between the desire to defend Pansy’s planning skills and the knowledge that he would be incriminating himself if he did. He lowered his eyes, staring at the floor. Perhaps if he was silent for long enough, Snape would back down?</p><p>“I can vouch for him, sir,” Draco said brightly, beaming up at Professor Snape. “We had quite the boring evening, didn’t we, Harry?”</p><p>And Harry remembered, as Draco stared right into Snape’s eyes and lied to his face, that he hadn’t told Draco about Snape being a mind reader-</p><p>He saw the exact moment when Snape saw the memory of Slinky. His face blanched, cycling rapidly through incredulity, horror, and incandescent rage-</p><p>“POTTER!”</p><p>***</p><p>“Never in my life could I have imagined – a bloody <i>basilisk</i> - the Aurors – a death wish, <i>Potter-“</i></p><p>Snape had degenerated into incoherence almost immediately after they’d made it to his office. The man’s arms windmilled dangerously close to shelves of closely-packed ingredients as he raved. “What were you <i>thinking?</i> Do you think, Potter? Are you a sapient being?”</p><p>The man’s voice was getting somewhat hoarse from screaming. “Sir,” Harry began tentatively.</p><p>Snape rounded on him. “Why, Potter?” he bellowed. “In Merlin’s name, WHY?”</p><p>“I’ve been trying to tell you, sir, she’s harmless,” Harry said desperately. “She’s really nice; she wouldn’t ever eat people-“ <i>Well, probably not,</i> he thought, but there was no reason to tell Snape that.</p><p>“Parseltongue!” Snape shouted. “You discover that you possess Salazar Slytherin’s hereditary talent – and you immediately turn around and use it to talk to a <i>basilisk?</i> Do you know how many fully grown wizards have been killed by basilisks, Potter?”</p><p>“But she’s Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk!”</p><p>“And so you decided, in your infinite wisdom, while being pursued by a delusional serial killer who wants nothing more than to murder you, to evade your protectors, venture out into a forest infested with creatures who want nothing more than to eat you, and chat up a basilisk that could <i>swallow you whole?”</i></p><p>The worst part was, that was about the gist of it. “But she wouldn’t-“</p><p>“Why, Potter?!” To his horror, Snape appeared to actually be expecting an answer for a moment. When none appeared to be forthcoming, his rant continued. “What am I supposed to do with you, Potter? You do not respond to house points, or detention, or essays, or threats, or even the Aurors themselves!” The man’s fists twisted at his sides; he looked almost deranged, staring off into space with an expression that Harry would have called pleading if it had been on any other person’s face.</p><p>“Are – are you going to tell Dumbledore?” Harry ventured.</p><p>Snape let out a short, bitter laugh. “Ah, yes. How could I forget about Headmaster Dumbledore! Tell me, Potter, what do you think the Headmaster’s idea of an appropriate punishment for consorting with an XXXXX-classified monstrosity would be? Awarding you house points for not getting eaten? Or perhaps an award for special services to the school would suffice? I can see the plaque now - Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Was-Eaten-”</p><p>“Look,” Harry said desperately, “she sheds once a year, and I know she’s got loads of spare venom and she can regrow her fangs and stuff. If – if you need any of that for Potions ingredients, I can ask Slinky and get as much as you need, no problem-“</p><p>“Are you attempting to bribe me, Potter?”</p><p>His professor’s outrage was unnecessary, considering that Harry could clearly see the Graphorn horn on one of the shelves behind him. “Yes?”</p><p>“You-“ Snape paused, looking livid once more. “You named Slytherin’s basilisk <i>Slinky?”</i></p><p>“No – well, yes,” Harry said, not wanting to incriminate Hagrid. Snape appeared to be having some sort of fit, although at least it was silent, now. “Should I – get out, Professor?” he asked hopefully, already half-rising from his seat.</p><p>“Sit, Potter!” Snape roared, dashing Harry’s hopes. He paced back and forth, muttering to himself for a moment, then flung out his hand. After a few seconds, a book flew into it. Snape stalked over to his desk, slamming the book down in front of Harry.</p><p>He peered at the title. <i>Meditation for Dummies,</i> the cover proclaimed in bold, black letters. A cartoon figure beamed up at him, looking very serene indeed. “Sir?” he said tentatively.</p><p><i>”You,”</i> Snape hissed as if the word was a curse. “You will sit here, without moving – and you will read, <i>quietly,</i> and you will…” He hesitated, as if floundering for words. “You will clear your mind!”</p><p>“Yes, sir-“</p><p>“Clear – your – mind!” Snape repeated, gesturing at the book for emphasis. He pulled out his wand, cast a flurry of spells, and then proceeded to scream silently at the ceiling for a while.</p><p>Rather than witness Snape’s rather embarrassing mental breakdown, Harry obediently flipped the book open. Someone had scrawled an inscription on the inside jacket - <i>Dear Sev, saw this and thought of you! Maybe you might end up developing a personality that isn’t just comprised of shouting at people?</i></p><p>Beneath, scrawled in a cramped, inelegant hand: <i>Not bloody likely.</i></p><p>Once Harry’s brain had finished short-circuiting at the thought of someone calling the Potions Professor <i>Sev,</i> of all things, and not immediately being disemboweled, he snuck a glance at the man in question. Seeing no evidence of improvement, he sighed and turned back to the book.</p><p>Harry certainly didn’t need lessons on <i>meditation.</i> But perhaps Marvolo might be able to learn from them.</p><p>After what seemed like hours, Harry looked up to find Snape glaring at him. “Have you derived any insights from the book, Potter?”</p><p>To be honest, Harry had spent the entire time trying not to react while Marvolo made sardonic comments about the meditation exercises that he’d been attempting. “Erm…”</p><p>Snape stared at him, astonished. “How have you not managed to clear your mind, Potter? Merlin knows it’s completely devoid of substance, anyways.”</p><p>Except for the Dark Lord residing within it. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Detention, Potter,” Snape said. The insult appeared to have stabilized his Professor; he now looked more resigned to his fate than stark raving mad.</p><p>“Which night, sir?”</p><p>“Forever,” Snape intoned. “You have detention forever, Potter. Even you cannot possibly manage to kill yourself while sitting in a corner, reading about meditation techniques.”</p><p>This was bad. Harry had only one chance at escaping this trap. “Does that mean you want to spend more time with me, sir?” he said brightly.</p><p>Snape’s face twisted violently once more. But Harry’s gambit had failed; the Professor’s characteristic sneer returned, albeit a little nauseated at the edges. “You will report here at every moment you are not in class or at meals. Detention will last until curfew, during which time you will be clearing your mind. The slightest delay in appearing on time, Potter, and I shall transfer every last detention session to Filch.”</p><p>Harry gulped. He’d never forgotten the caretaker’s threats, and he had no doubt that aiding and abetting was one of Snape’s many talents. “Yes, sir,” he said. He had no choice in the matter, after all.</p><p>At the very least, he thought as he trudged back to the dorm, Snape and the Aurors dogging his heels, Hagrid was there to take care of Mr. Fluffermittens and Slinky. And he would still be able to chat with Dobby after hours, too, and speak to his friends at mealtimes.</p><p>It was a shame about Percy, though. Without Harry to encourage him, he feared that the older boy would come to no conclusion about Professor Lupin – or, worse, decide that the evidence was stacked against him after all.</p><p>Perhaps having minions really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.</p><p>***</p><p>The corkboard was littered with scraps of paper, thumbtacks, and diagrams of spells and blueprints and timetables and everything in between; colored strings linked islands of notes together in an immense web, as complicated as any runic array there had ever been.</p><p>In the top left corner, isolated from the rest of the board by a veritable wall of tacks, a very scantily-clad pin-up of Aphrodite the Amorous scowled and made rude gestures at him. If his dormmates had applied as much effort to their studies as they had to the multiple Permanent Sticking and Repelling Charms on her photograph - <i>for morale, Perce!</i> they’d said, slapping him on the back – they would have passed their OWLs with ease.</p><p>Of course, in that case, he might not have had the highest marks in his year.</p><p>So Percy Weasley ignored Aphrodite, pushed his glasses up further on his nose, and stared fixedly at the center of the board. It was all here. Hours of painstaking searches through the Hogwarts records and old incident reports, as well as requisitions from a plethora of Ministry departments, from Magical Law Enforcement all the way to Magical Creatures.</p><p>And then there were the witness testimonies – there was Auror Nymphadora Tonks, with the purple thread and borders, and Lupin himself, and Scrimgeour there in orange. The entry and egress points to the castle, as well, mapped out with the help of Fred and George, who he had once thought of as incorrigible.</p><p>All of these things, in summation, were useless.</p><p>He had replicated the Aurors’ procedural handbook perfectly. There was no evidence that proved that Lupin was guilty, but he certainly <i>could</i> have let Black in. They’d been old school chums, after all, which justified Scrimgeour’s antipathy towards him. </p><p>But Lupin had never visited Black in prison. And, if they’d been working together all along, why hadn’t Black been able to infiltrate the castle right away? What had he been waiting for?</p><p>Percy had the horrible feeling that, for the first time in his life, he was missing something <i>big;</i> he was the stupid one in the room, and Black would see it, and Black would laugh at him-</p><p>And that was why, with a wrench in his heart, Percy reached out towards his evidence board, flipped it around, and pinned a single sheet of parchment to the blank other side.</p><p>“July 1st, Sirius Black escapes Azkaban,” he muttered, scrawling furiously on the parchment. “October 8th, he breaks into the Defense classroom-“</p><p>He paused, his jaw dropping as he stared at the two dates. Frantically, he flipped the board around, heedless of the ink on his fingers; connected three, then four of his sheets of paper with a trembling hand-</p><p>Percy Weasley dropped his quill to the ground in shock.</p><p>He knew why Sirius Black had entered the castle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look at that! I somehow managed to only miss my self-imposed deadline by a day. I'm improving!</p><p>Percy's serial-killer board and the pin-up girl are courtesy of the amazing Duinemerwen, who also helped hammer out the details of Harry, Draco, and Pansy's more-or-less successful plot. Duinemerwen is, as always, the best!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hello From The Other Side (The Remus Lupin Remix)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank you all for attending this monthly staff meeting,” Albus Dumbledore said, beaming around the room at the array of faces within. Most of them looked bored, hungover, or still quite drunk; the only exceptions were Remus Lupin, who was not yet jaded enough to know that politeness could be safely dispensed with at staff meetings, and Severus Snape, who was quite a bit paler and rather a lot less contemptuous than usual. The man’s sunken gaze was fixed on the opposite wall in a thousand-yard stare, seeing everything and nothing at once.</p><p>“Bad form, not making us our Hangover Cures this year,” Aurora Sinistra grumbled, shooting Severus a glare.</p><p>“Leave him be, the poor dear,” Pomona Sprout admonished her. “He’s obviously been through some sort of shock.”</p><p>“Merlin preserve us from teenaged tomfoolery,” Minerva said, shaking her head disapprovingly. “I do hope you gave that Montague boy detention, assuming he survived his meeting with you?”</p><p>“Thumbscrews and whips, that’s the way to handle them,” Filch muttered from the corner. Everyone ignored him.</p><p>“You’d never catch that sort of thing happening with my lions, of course,” Minerva said. “Chivalry is a founding tenet of our house, you know.”</p><p>It was a sign of how profoundly disturbed Severus was that he seemed to not even notice this statement.</p><p>“Lemon cookies, anyone?” Albus said, proffering a silver tray. Pomona took one, smiling at him gratefully.</p><p>“How very unusual,” Filius said, peering at the biscuits. “Did you receive them as a gift, Albus?”</p><p>“I made them myself, as a matter of fact,” Albus said, a twinkle in his eye. “I seem to have misplaced my knitting needles once again. In the absence of a good pair of woolies, one must indulge in a spot of holiday baking from time to time.”</p><p>“Ah, no thank you,” Filius said, sitting back with a nervous chuckle. “I must watch my figure, you know…” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Minerva discreetly vanishing the biscuit she had taken.</p><p>There was no accounting for taste, alas.</p><p>“To business, then,” Albus declared cheerfully. “Are there any pressing concerns to bring up?”</p><p>Filius exchanged a long look with Minerva. Having drawn the short straw, Filius sighed and spoke up. “I believe that the most pressing concern for most of my students is the continued escalation of security measures. Considering the lack of results, perhaps it would be better if some of the more restrictive policies were to be relaxed?”</p><p>Albus stroked his beard, nodding. “That is indeed a serious matter. But Alastor assures me that such precautions are necessary to protect Mr. Potter-“</p><p>“Hah!” The staff members turned to peer at Severus, whose characteristic sneer had returned. “The only protection that could actually benefit that boy is a prolonged stay in a sanatorium.”</p><p>“What’s the matter, Severus?” Aurora asked sweetly. “Did he give you another Christmas present?” Snape’s features contracted with horror, one eye twitching.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Filius said, ignoring Severus’ look of betrayal. “I rather enjoyed the box of chocolates Mr. Potter gave me. Such a nice young boy, isn’t he?”</p><p>“A well-mannered thing to do,” Minerva said, nodding approvingly. “Although I am quite sure that Severus did not receive chocolates from Mr. Potter.”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Filius agreed. “Something rather more personalized for his favourite professor, I should imagine.”</p><p>“That is ludicrous,” Severus snapped. “If the purpose of these meetings is simply to spread baseless and idiotic rumors-“</p><p>“Oh, pish tosh,” Pomona said. “Everyone knows you’ve been giving him private lessons, Severus.”</p><p>Severus was practically vibrating with fury. “They are detentions!”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Filius said, setting his teacup down so that he could form air quotes with his fingers. <i>”Detentions.</i> And what, pray tell, do these detentions involve? Filleting slugs? Mashing Flobberworms?”</p><p>“I stopped by the dungeons the other day to pick up a Hangover Cure – which wasn’t ready, by the way – and I saw Potter <i>reading</i> in Severus’ classroom,” Aurora said with relish. “Relaxing in the corner, without a care in the world.”</p><p>“Potter is an abnormal, dunderheaded menace! He <i>enjoys</i> squeezing out Bubotuber pus to a frankly disturbing degree – the more disgusting or dangerous a task is, the better, where that idiot boy is concerned. I assure you that being forced to read is a punishment for him-“</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Filius said, in exactly the same tone he’d used before. <i>”Punishment.”</i></p><p>“You ought to hear him and his friends gossiping in class,” Minerva snorted. “Professor Snape said wand-waving is foolish! Professor Snape said I oughtn’t to think so much about Transfiguring things into weapons! Professor Snape’s the best! I must say, I am fond of Mr. Potter, but perhaps he <i>has</i> been Confunded-”</p><p>“I think it’s quite nice,” Remus said mildly. “That Harry has someone to confide in, that is.”</p><p>“Potter does not <i>confide</i> his schemes in me,” Severus spat.</p><p>Remus took a sip of his tea. “I imagine that he simply tells you about them?”</p><p>Snape looked ready to launch himself across the room and strangle the man. “Now, now,” Albus said sternly, wagging his finger at the assembly. “We should hardly be teasing our colleague over such a sensitive issue.” There were murmurs of disappointment from the various staff members, while Severus stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Instead, we should all put our hands together and acknowledge Severus’ valuable contribution as a beloved mentor to young Mr. Potter-“</p><p>“I hate all of you!” Severus snarled. With a single, explosive movement, he stood, kicked his chair over, and strode out the door in a flurry of dark robes.</p><p>“Only took ten minutes this time,” Minerva said, raising her eyebrows. “This must be some sort of new record.”</p><p>“Write it down in the minutes, that’s the ticket,” Aurora said.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know. It seems a little mean-spirited,” Charity Burbage sighed.</p><p>“That’s because I know you had ten Galleons on him lasting fifteen. Cough it up, Charity!”</p><p>“He was provoked!”</p><p>“Well, I think that quite concludes our meeting,” Albus announced, beaming at his squabbling colleagues. “I will see you all next month.”</p><p>“But the security measures-“ Filius protested.</p><p>“Toodle-o!” Albus snatched up his tray of biscuits and was out the door before the protests could gather enough steam for people to actually remember them.</p><p>He would have to avoid his office for a while, regardless, in case Minerva tried to pop by with some post-holiday paperwork. He hummed thoughtfully, considering the mostly untouched plate in his hands. Perhaps he would offer them to the Aurors.</p><p>After all, Alastor would hardly have time to come up with more security measures if he was too busy testing his latest batch of Christmas gifts for poison.</p><p>***</p><p>He’d known the dark-eyed dame was trouble the second she’d flown into his office window. Messages sent with the Hogwarts school owls never boded well, especially these days; back when <i>he</i> had been in school, nobody had considered it above themselves to use their legs for deliveries, like normal people.</p><p>If the biscuits were truly from Dumbledore, surely he would have sent them with his phoenix instead. Yes, Fawkes had attempted to bite him last time before he’d even been able to finish his basic suite of detection charms, but phoenixes were not supposed to hold grudges. And the passphrase written on the accompanying note was correct, but passwords could be breached. He kept three bezoars on his person at all times, but poisons could be slow-acting.</p><p>The owl had refused to eat any of the biscuits she herself had brought, which was also highly suspicious.</p><p>With a carefully controlled burst of flame – that damned Skeeter woman had no idea what she was talking about; he knew all about what appropriate use of force was – he burnt the plate of cookies to cinders. Holding his breath as the dish vaporized, he Vanished the ashes before they had the time to settle.</p><p>The owl hooted reproachfully.</p><p>“Go off with you,” Alastor Moody growled, scrawling a note of acknowledgment to send with her. He’d said that the cookies had been good, but unusual, a description which could cover any multitude of sins. The poisoner would believe their plan to have succeeded. Now, he would have to watch the students and the professors and anyone in between for a hint of a reaction, or undue attention, or eye contact in general.</p><p>Considering that he already did this anyways, this was not much of a hardship.</p><p>It would be foolish to remain in one place after such a blatant assassination attempt. Grunting, he rose from his chair, locking and warding the door behind him. </p><p>Curfew or not, Hogwarts never slept, and neither did he. He had a lead to follow up on, after all.</p><p>Barely five minutes later, he stood at the edge of a precipice; the biting cold numbed his ears and nipped at his fingers, but any who assumed that the weather could dull his reflexes would have an unpleasant surprise waiting for them. Peeling the cautionary tape back, he peered down into the pit, eying the tiny spikes at the bottom.</p><p>It was, upon reflection, more of a small hole than a gaping abyss. A student might twist their ankle, falling into it, but it seemed far more suitable to catch a small creature than any sort of person, even with Potter being as weedy as he was. The question was, what sort of dangerous creature was this meant to conceal? A Lethifold? A nest of Vampyr Mosps, perhaps, set to bite any unfortunate person who ended up tripping over the area?</p><p>Perhaps there was some sort of magical bait in the area, to lure Potter towards it. Or, more likely, an accomplice - Lupin, in other words - who was meant to lead Potter to the trap.</p><p>Unless it was all just a double bluff, meant to fool him into thinking that Black was too insane to think up a proper sort of trap. Although, on second thought, that was probably what Black <i>wanted</i> him to think-</p><p>“OY!” He turned to see Auror Tonks – not Nymphadora, on pain of death; a stipulation which he approved of. His former trainee was shivering in a doorway, her hair twisting and growing into an impromptu pair of earmuffs as she cupped her hands around her mouth. “What’re you doing out there?”</p><p>He took a long pull from his hip-flask. “Investigating,” he grunted.</p><p>“Without any Warming Charms? Are you barmy? Get in here before you catch your death of cold!” Tonks yelled. “Rufus wants to see you!”</p><p>He sighed. Tonks may have been a decent dame, but she had no respect for drama.</p><p>His instincts screamed at him to stay, and he paused for a moment, staring down at the tiny deathtrap. His colleagues had tried to convince him that these constructions were simply pranks, rather than symbols of a fiendish plot orchestrated by Sirius Black, but he knew better. What secrets did this miserable little spike pit hide? What dire plots against Potter did it foretell?</p><p>“Well? Are you coming, or not?”</p><p>No-one understood his plight. He was the last bulwark against the forces of darkness. A lone sentinel; the protector that the wizarding world needed, if perhaps not the one it deserved. And even if his colleagues could not comprehend what was arrayed against them, he would maintain constant vigilance. That was his duty.</p><p>Checking one last time to make sure that nobody was watching from the vantage points around them, he strode back towards the door.</p><p>Of all of the trainees he’d had, Tonks was probably the most suited to carry on his lone vigil. She’d picked a flaw that would make her enemies underestimate her – as if a friendly face was incapable of concealing dark secrets! – and maintained an appearance and affect that would ensure anyone attempting to impersonate her would have a difficult time.</p><p>Yes, Tonks was a cunning one, indeed.</p><p>But she had a long way to go before her instincts would be on par with his.</p><p>***</p><p>“Was Auror Moody all right?” Remus asked mildly, looking up from his book as the door to his office slammed open.</p><p>“Ugh! Don’t even ask.” Tonks sunk down into the armchair across from him, scowling. Her hair was curled in large, pink-tinged half-spheres around her ears. As she noticed him looking, she flushed, muttering something under her breath that was definitely not compliant with Auror regulations. Within seconds, the Auror was sporting a buzzcut that rippled through several different shades before settling on a shimmery sort of gray.</p><p>It shouldn’t have been flattering. But it was.</p><p>He averted his eyes, taking another sip of tea.</p><p>“Kingsley was all right, yeah? He wasn’t being a berk, or anything?”</p><p>“He was perfectly polite,” Remus assured her. ‘Polite’ was, perhaps, a stretch; still, Auror Shacklebolt hadn’t been overtly rude or outright hostile, unlike most of his colleagues. If he was quite honest with himself, he was still rather relieved that the antipathy he was getting was because of who he knew, not who he was.</p><p>At the very least, it made for a refreshing change of pace.</p><p>“Oh, good,” Tonks said, with audible relief. “I won’t feel like a prat for complaining about Moody, then. D’you know where I found him? Freezing his unmentionables off on the Hogwarts grounds without so much as a cloak, staring off into space – and when I asked him what he was doing, guess what he said?”</p><p>“Constant vigilance?” Remus guessed.</p><p>Tonks cleared her throat, squinted dramatically into the distance, and said, in Moody’s raspy voice: <i>”Investigating.”</i> She burst into gales of laughter, so that Remus couldn’t help but smile along. “Wish I could be there when he reports in to Rufus! Can you imagine his face?”</p><p>“I’ve always found it quite impressive,” he confessed. “I never knew a human face could turn such a vibrant shade of purple.”</p><p>Tonks snickered. “It’s a gift. Rufus Scrimgeour, the Mauve Metamorphagus!”</p><p>“Striking terror into the hearts of man,” he said dryly.</p><p>Tonks made a face. “Yeah, he’s striking something, all right. Look, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but-“</p><p>“You don’t need to say anything,” he assured her.</p><p>She gave him a withering look. “I <i>know.</i> Which is why I’m just going to be sitting here, in the corner, thinking out loud. While waiting for some hot cocoa?” she added hopefully.</p><p>“I would not dare refuse you,” he said, and was rewarded with a grin and a flash of pink in her hair.</p><p>“Right. So,” she said, clearing her throat. “This is kind of awkward, but the thing is – you know that riot that happened at Azkaban, with the Dementors? Because the Ministry tried to blame Black’s escape on the Auror corps, and how two prisoners ended up getting Kissed? Well, I’m the Auror they blamed it on.”</p><p>“Because of your family connection to him?” Remus asked, unable to keep the indignation out of his voice.</p><p>“No,” she said glumly. “It really is sort of my fault, actually. I spoke to him a couple of times. Felt sorry for him, believe it or not. I feel a right tit about it now, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyways, because of that, the Undersecretary showed up and went spare. But Azkaban’s not exactly the best place to get into a screaming row, so the Dementors went spare too, and things really just went downhill from there.”</p><p>“And there’s more scrutiny on you, because of that,” he said. He would have to be extra careful to ensure that his actions did not reflect poorly on her.</p><p>“See, that’s the thing. Rufus went to bat for me. He got that Senior Undersecretary woman sacked instead of me; trumpeted high and low to the Ministry about how blaming me was ridiculous. But there’s nobody to really blame right now, innit? So I think maybe – maybe he just really wants you to be the bad guy here, so that he can take the heat off the Aurors, and me, by extension.”</p><p>He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, I’m glad that at least one good thing is coming out of this.”</p><p>Tonks glared at him. “You know, there’s missing the point, and then there’s Apparating so far past it that you splinch yourself.”</p><p>He took a moment to gather his thoughts, busying himself with the pot of cocoa. “You don’t have to feel guilty, you know.”</p><p>“Gee, thanks,” Tonks said sarcastically. “Now I don’t feel bad any more for standing around like a prat while my buddies do their best to take down an innocent man.”</p><p>“What I mean,” he said, summoning a pair of mugs, “is that sometimes things happen that are out of our control. The best that we can do is choose how we react to them.”</p><p>Tonks looked distinctly unimpressed. “So when Rufus is having a go at you, I ought to – what, stick my fingers in my ears and shout ‘yadda yadda yadda’ really loudly?” </p><p>“That would be quite the sight,” he said, smiling despite himself. “But you have spoken out on my behalf many times. And I presume that you are doing so because you believe that I am innocent?”</p><p>“Well, yeah! That's the whole point!”</p><p>He smiled, handing her the requested mug. “Then that means more than you know. Thank you.”</p><p>“Oh.” Tonks blinked rapidly, a flush of pink spreading through her hair. “Well, that's - I mean, well...right! Great!” She coughed awkwardly, her eyes darting around the room. Before he could so much as shout a word of warning, she abruptly tilted her head back and poured half of the contents of the boiling hot mug straight down her throat in a single, spasmodic motion.</p><p>“Auror Tonks! Are you all right?” He wracked his brains, frantically wondering if he knew any charms for healing burns.</p><p>“Yep!” Tonks said, sounding almost manic. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She took another gulp of her cocoa, avoiding his eyes.</p><p>Flummoxed, he did the only thing he could think of and handed her the second mug of cocoa. To his relief, this seemed to be the right move.</p><p>“Good talk,” Tonks declared, raising both of the mugs towards him in a jerky salute that sent part of the cocoa sloshing over the rim. “Oh, bloody <i>hell</i> - thanks for the Evanesco-“</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” he said.</p><p>“Right,” Tonks said, nodding furiously. “Let’s talk about this <i>never.</i> Totally fine by me. So! Have you read the <i>Prophet</i> lately?”</p><p>“The <i>Prophet?”</i> he said, momentarily startled. “Ah, yes. It’s been, ah – quite different lately.”</p><p>“Understatement of the year,” Tonks proclaimed gleefully. “I’m surprised the Ministry’s still standing, with what that Selwyn woman’s been writing.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about that?”</p><p>“Nah,” Tonks said, shrugging. “I mean, let’s be real, it’s still the <i>Prophet.</i> What’re they going to do, sack Fudge because a two-Knut tabloid’s been printing off some unflattering stories about him?”</p><p>“Now, now,” Remus said, quite relieved to be back on familiar ground once more. “You <i>are</i> speaking of the man who received an Order of Merlin for taking career suggestions from Albus Dumbledore.”</p><p>Tonks cackled. “Genius exposé, that one! Wonder what she’ll come up with next?”</p><p>And, as had become their evening tradition, they shared their cocoa, and poked fun at Jane Selwyn’s poison pen, and for a few precious hours, pretended that they could shield each other from the slings and arrows of the morning.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <i>TRAITOR AT HOGWARTS!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Rita Skeeter and Jane Selwyn</i>
</p><p>
  <i>For the past five months, the Aurors have been engaged in a country-wide manhunt for the notorious killer Sirius Black, infamous for murdering twelve Muggles and the war hero Peter Pettigrew. The Ministry has maintained an Auror presence at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since Black’s escape, claiming that their draconian lockdown on communication is absolutely necessary to protect the Boy-Who-Lived.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Our readers may have thought, as yours truly once did, that the security detail assigned to darling young Harry was a perfectly reasonable precaution, considering Black’s status as a devoted follower of You-Know-Who.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>But the roots of this tragic tale lie even closer to poor young Harry than you may think.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In a shocking revelation of sealed Ministry records, the <i>Prophet</i> has discovered that Black’s most heinous crime went far beyond mere murder. Sirius Black, formerly a trusted friend and Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter, betrayed the family of the Boy-Who-Lived to You-Know-Who, condemning a helpless infant to near-certain death! Yes, readers, you heard that right – Black was the mastermind behind the fall of the Potters’ Fidelius Charm, and his was the hand that held the knife that stabbed James Potter in the back.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And, thanks to the incompetence of both the Aurors and reputedly senile Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, history may end up repeating itself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sources at Hogwarts have revealed that Black’s terrifying break-in at the school several months ago may have been facilitated by Hogwarts Professor Remus Lupin, the latest in a line of infamously corrupt, immoral, or even openly homicidal tenants of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Lupin is currently the primary suspect of the senior Aurors investigating the case; however, in a stunning and upsetting decision, the Headmaster of Hogwarts has refused to dismiss him, despite the clear danger he poses to the Boy-Who-Lived.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Why is a known bosom buddy of Black’s being shielded by the so-called ‘hero’, Albus Dumbledore? Why have the Aurors seemingly bowed to pressure from an elderly schoolteacher and failed to investigate the allegations against Lupin with all due diligence?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And, most importantly why has a man with such a checkered past been allowed to roam freely around your children?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The Prophet calls upon Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore to answer these questions and make the right decision for young Mr. Potter’s safety. But, between you and me, dear readers - we’re not holding out hope.</i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>***</p><p>“Harry? Harry! Are you all right?”</p><p>“Fine, Pansy,” Harry said through gritted teeth, his knuckles whitening around the copy of the <i>Daily Prophet</i> in his hands as he slowly lowered it to the table. “I’m doing just fine.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, a huge thanks to Duinemerwen for her input! Noir!Moody exists thanks to her genius.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Paved With Bad Intentions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You are thinking, Potter.” Harry dragged his gaze upward from the page he had been staring at for the past thirty minutes, stopping just short of the glare that Snape was directing at him from across the room. “In my experience, that is a bad sign.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, sir,” Harry mumbled.</p>
<p>“Do not take that sullen tone with me, Potter,” Snape snapped.</p>
<p>Harry bristled. What was Snape expecting him to do, thank him for the detentions? He hadn’t even let Harry so much as touch a cauldron since the Slinky incident, while Sirius Black was free to run around murdering as many people as he liked.</p>
<p>Including Harry’s parents.</p>
<p>Which nobody, apparently, had seen fit to tell Harry about.</p>
<p>“Stop simmering and get back to reading, Potter!”</p>
<p>“I’m not a cauldron!” he said, unable to keep the indignation out of his voice. “You can’t make me!”</p>
<p>“Of course not. A cauldron would have far greater intelligence.” Snape’s eyebrows drew downward. “And I <i>can</i>, as you so eloquently put it, ‘make you’ continue reading. Need I remind you that this is a punishment for your idiotic and reckless behavior?” </p>
<p>“Wow, really?” he muttered. “I was having too much fun to notice.” Unfortunately, Snape had the hearing of a bat as well as the appearance of one.</p>
<p>To his surprise, his professor didn’t immediately erupt into one of his usual rants. Instead, he eyed Harry with something that looked almost like alarm. “There is a <i>limit</i> to playing dumb, Potter, although I would not be surprised if you have already managed to surpass it,” he hissed. “Since none of your reading material has been able to penetrate your thick skull, you will begin on Monday evening by juicing toads-“</p>
<p>“Really?” Harry said, perking up. Did this mean that Snape was going to let him experiment with potions again?</p>
<p>Snape’s eyes narrowed further. “Without gloves.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Harry said, nodding vigorously. Anything would be better than sitting around reading boring books on meditation while there were so many interesting and lethal poison ingredients right <i>there.</i> If he’d had to spend one more hour in silence, he would have gone as far around the bend as Marvolo already was.</p>
<p>“What is <i>wrong</i> with you, Potter?” Snape demanded.</p>
<p>This was usually a rhetorical question, judging by the frequency with which Snape posed it. But, for once, Harry seized the opportunity with both hands. “Actually, sir-“</p>
<p>“Do not answer that question! I do not care about your petty adolescent problems!”</p>
<p>“It’s not petty!” Harry insisted. “It’s about Sirius Black-“</p>
<p>“No,” Snape said immediately.</p>
<p>“You haven’t even heard what I was going to ask!”</p>
<p>“I do not need to,” Snape said, folding his arms. “The answer will most certainly be ‘no.’”</p>
<p>“Well, you read the paper this morning, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“I endeavor not to,” Snape said, sneering. “I only have so many brain cells to lose after enduring your company.”</p>
<p>“I saw you reading it at the high table,” Harry said, refusing to be deterred. It had been hard <i>not</i> to notice, considering that Snape had stared at Lupin with the same sort of malevolent glee that was usually reserved for jinxing Harry. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Snape had framed the article on his wall. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that Sirius Black good as murdered my parents?”</p>
<p>Snape stared down his nose at him as though he’d said something particularly stupid. “And why would they?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Harry said indignantly. “I’d think I ought to know the reason why a crazed killer is out to get me, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Snape paused. “And what were you planning on doing with this information, Potter?” His voice had lowered to an almost reasonable volume; this was most certainly a bad sign.</p>
<p><i>I sincerely hope that is a rhetorical question,</i> Marvolo said, with a disparaging sniff.</p>
<p>“Erm. Nothing?” Harry said, just a fraction too slowly.</p>
<p>He jumped as Snape’s hands slammed down on his desk. “I <i>knew</i> it!” he hissed, his features twisting into a horrifying grimace. “The slightest hint of something being lethal, and you throw yourself at it like a rabid Flobberworm! The Dark Lord oughtn’t to have bothered coming after you, Potter; if he’d simply stood in the middle of Charing Cross with a sign around his neck reading ‘Free Killing Curses!’, you’d have happily gone right for him!”</p>
<p><i>It’s not </i>that<i> funny,</i> Harry thought, more than a little resentful at the sheer volume of Marvolo’s laughter.</p>
<p>Snape wasn’t finished. “Have you ever considered, Potter, that there are solutions to problems <i>other</i> than throwing yourself headfirst at them?”</p>
<p>“I’ve considered it!” Harry protested.</p>
<p>Snape’s eye twitched. “These puerile fantasies of hunting down Sirius Black stop here,” he growled. “You will under no circumstances pursue this idiotic little vendetta on your own. Is that clear?”</p>
<p><i>Oh, really,</i> Marvolo said disapprovingly. <i>When did Severus turn into such a shrinking violet? Even </i>Dumbledore<i> let you plot to kill Quirrell, and he’s one of those bleeding-heart ‘sanctity of life’ types.</i></p>
<p>Harry scowled at the professor. He quite agreed with Marvolo’s sentiments, for once. “Does that mean you’ll help me pursue it, sir?” he asked, perhaps more sarcastically than he should have.</p>
<p>For a moment, Snape looked as if he were about to explode. Then, in the blink of an eye, an evil smile spread across his face. “Certainly,” he said.</p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened with alarm. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder towards the exit. “Erm, on second thought-“</p>
<p>He let out a loud yelp as he shot straight up into the air before something invisible grabbed his leg, flipping him upside down so that his nose hovered perilously close to the surface of an unwashed workbench. “Wait! Put me down! How is this supposed to be helping me?”</p>
<p>“This is a glimpse of the future, Potter,” Snape growled. “I am demonstrating precisely what will happen if you attempt to face an adult wizard in combat.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to face him!” If he was quite honest, he hadn’t exactly come up with a plan beyond a general desire to murder Black; still, Marvolo had assured him that a decent killing instinct was the most important part of any strategy.</p>
<p>Snape rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes. You were undoubtedly plotting some sort of ambush. Truly impressive, Potter. Surely such an ingenious plan could not ever be anticipated by someone with more than two brain cells to rub together. A category which does not include you,” he added, which Harry thought was rather unnecessary.</p>
<p>“I’m not completely thick,” he said, glaring at Snape. “I was going to curse him in the back, if you must know.”</p>
<p>“An opportunity which I am sure that he will graciously provide you, of course.”</p>
<p>“Well, have you got a better idea?”</p>
<p>“Very well,” Snape said abruptly, pivoting on his heel. “Why don’t you provide me a demonstration of your superior skill, Potter? As you may no doubt have noticed with your keen powers of perception, my back is now turned.”</p>
<p><i>It’s a trap,</i> Marvolo said.</p>
<p><i>I know,</i> Harry thought. Still, he suspected that Snape would be only too happy to leave him dangling in mid-air until he’d made his point.</p>
<p>He nearly dropped his wand trying to get it out of his sleeve – he was sure he would never have lived <i>that</i> one down – but, after a spot of careful maneuvering, managed to get a decent enough grip on it. He squinted at Snape’s back, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of blood rushing to his head. Did Snape already have some sort of shielding spell up? Would his eyebrow combustion spell work if he couldn’t see his target’s eyebrows? The last thing he wanted to do was to light Snape’s head on fire-</p>
<p>“Any time before curfew, Potter,” Snape drawled.</p>
<p>He struck while the professor was distracted. “Flip-“</p>
<p>Before he knew it, Harry’s muscles had turned to jelly. His wand slid out of nerveless fingers to clatter to the ground as his head lolled forward, bringing his face half an inch closer to the disgusting desk surface.</p>
<p>He hadn’t seen Snape draw his wand.</p>
<p>In fact, he wasn’t even sure if Snape had bothered to turn around before jinxing him.</p>
<p>“Let me tell you a story, Potter,” Snape said, sounding almost genial. Harry would have groaned, if he had been able to. “In my youth, I engaged in acts of colossal folly, not least of which was my decision to join a group of weak-minded fools with a taste for mayhem only slightly less developed than yours.”</p>
<p><i>Interesting,</i> Marvolo mused. <i>I wasn’t aware that he had joined another organization before mine.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>I think he’s talking about you, Marvolo.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Nonsense, Potter. Perhaps Severus is correct about your intellectual capabilities, after all.</i>
</p>
<p>“In his infinite wisdom,” Snape continued, the familiar sarcasm already creeping back into his voice, “our fearless leader decided to come along on a routine patrol to ‘terrorize the general populace,’ as he liked to put it.”</p>
<p>
  <i>Told you!</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Shut up, Potter! There must be some mistake-</i>
</p>
<p>“It was an unpleasant enough surprise to realize that a powerful and famous wizard happened to be visiting the village we’d chosen that day. You see, Potter, even my colleagues were not so dim-witted as to not recognize when they were outmatched. Normally, we would have fled, lit a couple of haystacks on fire, and picked a few random names from the obituaries to take credit for.”</p>
<p><i>They did </i>WHAT? Marvolo squawked, outraged.</p>
<p>“Instead, our leader decided that the best course of action was to stage an ambush. In short, he would face this wizard in the open while we cursed him from behind. Do you see any issues with this plan, Potter?” Snape paused, staring expectantly at Harry. With a start, he realized that he could move again.</p>
<p>“That…doesn’t sound like such a bad plan,” he croaked.</p>
<p><i>It was an excellent plan!</i> Marvolo said indignantly. <i>We routed the old fool – sent him scurrying from the battlefield with our mastery of dark magic-</i></p>
<p> Snape sent Harry a withering glance. “The problem with this strategy was that, unlike our leader, <i>this</i> wizard was not a complete moron. Between his use of his familiar as a scout, his knowledge of the terrain, and his ability to rouse the village denizens to his aid, half of our force was destroyed in a pointless battle, with not even a scratch on our adversary to show for it.”</p>
<p><i>Such insolence!</i> Marvolo shrieked. <i>How dare he spout such infernal lies?</i></p>
<p>Blissfully unaware of the ongoing chorus of screams in Harry’s head, Snape continued. “You see, Potter, there was nobody willing to tell the Dark Lord that he was an idiot to his face. Luckily, I am here to inform you that you are an idiot on a daily basis. What lesson have you learned from this?” Almost as an afterthought, he waved his wand, setting Harry down on solid ground once more.</p>
<p>Harry may have been dizzy from his time spent hanging upside-down, and woozy from the lingering effects of the jinx, but he was still pretty sure that the correct answer was not ‘become powerful enough to avoid being called an idiot.’ “I shouldn’t try to ambush Sirius Black, sir?” he said.</p>
<p>“For the first time this year, you have said something sensible. Congratulations, Potter,” Snape said. “Now get out.”</p>
<p>Harry didn’t even bother to protest as he grabbed his bag, wobbling a little on unsteady feet. He wanted nothing more than to have a nice, long lie-down and forget that this whole day had ever happened.</p>
<p>Marvolo, of course, had other plans.</p>
<p><i>Betrayal! Slander! Spurious lies!</i> If Marvolo had had a body, he would have been foaming at the mouth. <i>Is this how I am repaid for leading these fools to victory?</i></p>
<p>There were many responses that Harry could have made to this – first and foremost, that Marvolo’s definition of ‘victory’ appeared to be rather generous – but he knew that they would only be counterproductive. <i>Well, </i>did<i> half of your team die?</i></p>
<p><i>They were not my team,</i> Marvolo snapped. <i>They were minions. That is quite literally their job.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>How about that powerful wizard, then? Did you at least manage to off him?</i>
</p>
<p><i>I am still working on that,</i> Marvolo said grudgingly. <i>Yet we forced him to flee, his pathetic village in tatters around him-</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Are you sure you didn’t flee first?</i>
</p>
<p><i>It was a </i>strategic retreat,<i> Potter!</i> Marvolo shrieked. <i>Bah! Why do I bother? See how well you do against Black without the benefit of my counsel-</i></p>
<p>There was no diplomatic way to put it. <i>Actually, I think Snape might have had a point,<i> Harry thought.</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
    <i>WHAT?!</i> Harry winced, raising his hands to his ears. <i>Potter, how could you possibly be any more insipid? What do you and your precious professor plan to do, invite Black around for tea and defeat him with the power of love?</i>
</p>
<p>
Normally, Marvolo wouldn’t have even been able to mention ‘love’ without at least a few exaggerated gagging noises; the fact that he’d managed to articulate an entire sentence based around it meant that he really was furious. Harry would have to tread lightly, after all.
</p>
<p>
<i>Look, I’m not saying that we </i>shouldn’t<i> kill Black-</i>
</p>
<p>
      <i>Yes, you are, Potter! That is precisely what you are saying!</i>
</p>
<p>
      <i>No, it’s not! If he turns up, then I’ll happily send the Blood-Boiling Curse at him, but I’m just saying that hunting him down without any sort of plan is starting to sound like a really bad idea-</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Two words, Potter,</i> Marvolo hissed. <i>Avada Kedavra.</i>
</p>
<p>Harry stopped dead in his tracks. <i>Are you trying to curse me to death with the power of your mind again?</i>
</p>
<p>
      <i>No, you idiot! Avada Kedavra IS the plan! Unlike my worthless minions, it never fails-</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Except when it does,</i> Harry thought, folding his arms. <i>It didn’t work on me, remember?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>I try to forget every day, Potter,</i> Marvolo said sourly. <i>Somehow, it never seems to stick.</i>
</p>
<p>
Harry’s eyes narrowed. <i>You know, maybe using the Killing Curse wasn’t your problem. Maybe it was – how did Snape put it? Charging in like an idiot?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>How dare you lecture </i>me<i> on the best way to kill people?</i> Marvolo shrieked. <i>I was the most fearsome Dark Lord in all of Britain! The populace trembled at the mere mention of my name-</i>
</p>
<p>
Harry snorted. <i>Yeah, right,</i> he thought, before he could stop himself.</p>
<p>
For one blissful minute, the ranting stopped, replaced with an almost frozen silence. <i>I beg your pardon?</i> Marvolo said, pure incredulity in his voice.
</p>
<p>
Harry took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. <i>Marvolo, it’s okay. I get why you felt like you had to lie about it, but it’s really all right with me if you weren’t that good at the whole Dark Lord thing.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>I – what?</i> If he hadn’t known Marvolo so well, he would have thought that his friend sounded genuinely bewildered; Harry knew, however, that this was just the calm before the storm.
</p>
<p>
<i>I mean, Slinky’s pretty impressive, don’t get me wrong,</i> Harry thought, hurrying on before his friend could regain his senses. <i>But it’s just that no-one’s ever heard of you, and your lair…well, honestly, it was a bit sad-</i>
</p>
<p>
Marvolo made a choking noise. <i>You – Potter, you…you utter IMBECILE! You thrice-damned son of a Streeler! I’ve raised Inferi with more intelligence than you! How is it even possible for you to be SO BLOODY STUPID?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Well, I didn’t think it was possible to be </i>bad<i> at being a Dark Lord, either,</i> Harry snapped, <i>but you’ve really proven me wrong there, haven’t you?</i>
</p>
<p>
To some extent, Harry had expected the series of incoherent screeches that followed. What he hadn’t expected was the strangled gasp that interrupted Marvolo’s building crescendo. <i>Potter,</i> he said, his voice urgent. <i>Get back to your dorm room.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Sorry, can’t understand you,</i> Harry said, deliberately slowing his pace. <i>I’m too stupid, you see-</i>

</p>
<p>
      <i>Shut UP and fetch the Horcruxes, Potter!</i>
</p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened, his animosity momentarily forgotten. <i>Wait, you’re feeling regret?</i> They weren’t really that far from the common room, but who knew how long this brief bout of sanity would last? <i>Can you hold it in?</i>
</p>
<p>
A frustrated scream was his only answer.
</p>
<p>
Harry broke into a run, bolting into the Slytherin common room and up the dorm stairs in record time. He threw open the lid of his trunk, frantically digging through piles of clothes to find the Horcruxes at the bottom.
</p>
<p>
“Merlin, Harry!” Blaise exclaimed, throwing open the curtains of his bed. “What’re you running from, Sirius Black? The Aurors? Both?”
</p>
<p>
“Snape,” Harry said, his fingers closing around the silk bag with the diary. He gave it a couple of experimental shakes, but no portentous revelations appeared to be forthcoming.
</p>
<p>
“Oh,” Blaise said, immediately losing interest. “Well, that’s old news.”
</p>
<p>
Keeping his hands concealed within the trunk, Harry shook the ring out from its hiding place, wrinkling his nose slightly at the sorry-looking sock in which it had been stored. His heart sank as the ring, too, proved to be inert.
</p>
<p>
      <i>Marvolo, what if-</i>
</p>
<p>
But, as it turned out, his hesitant apology wasn’t necessary. As soon as his hand closed around the wrapped Cup, he knew that something was different. It felt pleasantly warm to the touch, and for the first time, he wondered if the Horcruxes were really <i>alive-</i>
</p>
<p>
And then he grazed the metal edge of the Cup with his finger, and it fell away to dust in his hands, and Marvolo’s howls of agony echoed in his head for a terribly long time.
</p>
<p>
<i>Marvolo? Are you okay?</i> Harry asked, once the screams had faded to mere echoes.
</p>
<p>
His friend was silent for a moment. <i>What do </i>you<i> think, Potter?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>I don’t think you’re a bad Dark Lord, you know,</i> Harry said, struck by a sudden wave of sympathy.
</p>
<p>
<i>I have degenerated to the point where I require motivational speeches from a twelve-year old,</i> Marvolo said, sounding even more sullen than before. <i>Clearly, I must have done </i>something<i> wrong.</i>
</p>
<p>
      <i>Hey, you got my age right, for once! Did reabsorbing your soul make you any better at maths?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Stop being encouraging, Potter,</i> Marvolo snapped. <i>It’s undignified.</i>
</p>
<p>
      <i>For me, or for you?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>I hate you, Potter,</i> Marvolo said, although Harry thought that it lacked just a little bit of his usual venom. <i>Say, you know what </i>would<i> make me feel better?</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Fine, fine,</i> Harry thought. <i>If Sirius Black happens to turn up in front of us, we can kill him.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Excellent,</i> Marvolo purred, radiating satisfaction. <i>You may make a half-decent Worst Minion after all.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>After hearing Marvolo’s cries of pain, Harry wasn’t really inclined to correct him on that front. After all, he could always blackmail him for more status later, when his dark resurrection was nigh. If that wasn’t Best Minion material, he didn’t know what was.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>In his excitement over the Horcrux, Harry had almost managed to forget about the article that had set off the entire chain of events.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>But Rufus Scrimgeour had not forgotten.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i></i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>In his murderous fugue, Harry had failed to notice the tidal wave of gossip that had swept through Slytherin after Skeeter and Selwyn’s latest article; when the next day dawned, however, it proved impossible to ignore.</p>
<p>Breakfast, for once, was a subdued affair. Every other conversation seemed to be punctuated by wild theories or meaningful looks towards Lupin’s conspicuously empty chair at the High Table.</p>
<p>“Well, they’ve got to arrest <i>someone,</i> haven’t they? Or else they’ll look bad,” Pansy said.</p>
<p>“I heard they already arrested him,” Tracey said, in a not-so-hushed whisper.</p>
<p>“I heard I’m out two Galleons,” Daphne said, with a sour look at Blaise.</p>
<p>Harry didn’t quite know how to feel about the whole thing. Lupin had been nice, and he’d given Harry photos of his parents, so he couldn’t have been <i>all</i> bad. But he’d also failed to tell Harry that he’d been best mates with the murderer of his parents, which seemed like a rather glaring oversight.</p>
<p>“What <i>is</i> that thing?” Pansy gasped.</p>
<p>Harry blinked, startled, as a glowing silver jack-rabbit bounded into the Great Hall, heading straight for Dumbledore. “Headmaster Dumbledore, please come to the Defense classroom,” Tonks’ voice said, sounding not at all like her usual cheery self. “Auror Scrimgeour is attempting to remove Remus Lupin from the grounds-“</p>
<p>Like a shot, Dumbledore was on his feet; in a roaring sheet of flame, he blinked out of existence.</p>
<p>Pandemonium followed.</p>
<p>“Order!” McGonagall shouted, her features pinched. “Prefects, maintain order!”</p>
<p>Snape clearly did not give a fig for maintaining order; he looked rather as if he’d just been told that he’d never have to interact with anyone under the age of twenty again. Along with Pansy, Draco, and Blaise, Harry leapt out of his seat and hurried towards the Defense classroom. A large portion of the Slytherin table had had the same idea, judging from the number of students following them.</p>
<p>The sight that awaited them was eerily similar to the one they had witnessed near the beginning of the school year, when Scrimgeour had accused Lupin of letting Sirius Black into the castle.</p>
<p>Now, as before, Tonks stood on Lupin’s side; five Aurors had accompanied Scrimgeour as backup, but none of them looked particularly keen to cross Dumbledore, whose characteristic twinkle was completely absent.</p>
<p>“-understand, but under the Decree for Justifiable Detention, it is clearly stated that suspects of major crimes may be held at the discretion of the Ministry for a one-month period.”</p>
<p>Dumbledore didn’t budge an inch. “And as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I am perfectly within my rights to act as one of the witnesses refuting these unfounded accusations. As is one of your own Aurors, I believe.”</p>
<p>Scrimgeour shot Tonks a withering glance. “Your board of governors may disagree with that, Headmaster Dumbledore. In fact, Lucius Malfoy has been most insistent on taking any and all measures necessary for Black’s capture.”</p>
<p>“I disagree,” Dumbledore said calmly. “In my official capacity as Supreme Mugwump, if that is necessary.”</p>
<p>Scrimgeour grunted. “Of course. And you can follow the procedures and lodge a formal complaint, but for now, we’ll be taking Mr. Lupin into custody-“</p>
<p>“Wait!”</p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened as he spotted a red-faced Percy struggling through the crowd, his glasses askew and his hair a wild halo of frizz. “Wait,” he repeated. “You can’t arrest him! In Humphrey Belcher versus the Ministry, it was clearly established that aiding and abetting was not sufficient to meet the definition of a major crime! Er, I mean, <i>allegedly</i> aiding and abetting,” he added hurriedly.</p>
<p>Scrimgeour stared at him for a moment. “Is this true?” he asked, without taking his eyes off Percy.</p>
<p>“No idea, sir.“</p>
<p>“It was part of the Cheese Cauldron Debates of 1695, in Suffolk-“ Percy began, but Scrimgeour waved his hand abruptly, cutting him off.</p>
<p>“Really, lad? Is this the hill you want to die on?”</p>
<p>Harry hadn’t known Percy very long, but he’d thought that the older boy would have done anything to avoid antagonizing the Ministry. To his astonishment, Percy looked even more determined. “I believe Professor Lupin is innocent, Auror Scrimgeour,” he said.</p>
<p>“And why is that?”</p>
<p>Percy flinched. His gaze fell to the floor as his eyes darted around like a cornered rat. “I-well, I can’t really <i>prove</i> it yet-“</p>
<p>Groans of disappointment, and a few jeers, rose from the crowd. Scrimgeour let out a snort of disgust, shaking his head incredulously. “I don’t believe the lot of you,” the Auror growled. “None of you see the big picture. Maybe you didn’t have anything to do with your old friend just <i>happening</i> to break into a heavily guarded castle with no-one managing to spot him,” he said, rounding on Lupin. “But maybe you did. And it’s hardly your heads on the chopping block, is it? It’s <i>his.</i>”</p>
<p>Harry shrank back a little as the crowd turned to look at him.</p>
<p>“This isn’t a game,” Scrimgeour said bluntly. “You can rehire Lupin if he turns out to be innocent. You can’t bring Potter back to life.”</p>
<p>“My decision is final, Auror Scrimgeour,” Dumbledore said.</p>
<p>Scrimgeour’s mouth set in a hard line as he turned to Tonks. “You’re a good Auror, Tonks. But until we come back with a warrant, you’d better watch Lupin very closely. Because it’ll be on your head if something happens to Potter, and I can’t shield you from that.”</p>
<p>Tonks’ face paled, but she raised her chin resolutely. “I understand, sir.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Scrimgeour grunted. He turned on his heel and strode off down the hallway, the crowd parting before him; his entourage followed behind, with not even a glance spared for Lupin.</p>
<p>“Classes are dismissed for the day. Please return to your dorms,” Dumbledore said, then levelled a look of such profound disappointment at the lingering gawkers that not even Montague dared disobey.</p>
<p>Struck dumb by the sheer power of Dumbeldore’s weaponized guilt, the four friends trudged back to the dorms in silence, not daring to speak a word until they were ensconced inside the common room. There, an entire house’s worth of repressed speculation burst forth in an eager wave.</p>
<p>“Can you <i>believe</i> it?”</p>
<p>“A total disgrace; Skeeter and Selwyn were right-“</p>
<p>“-nothing in it for that Auror if she defends him; there’s got to be <i>something</i> there-“</p>
<p>Harry wasn’t quite sure why, but his initial excitement at witnessing the commotion had given way to a low, buzzing sense of anxiety, as if he’d forgotten about something terribly important. Mumbling a quick excuse, he headed up to the dorm, intending to relax for just a few minutes before rejoining his friends.</p>
<p>The folded sheet of parchment on his nightstand – and the short message within it – put all thoughts of relaxation out of his head.</p>
<p>In silence, he and Marvolo scanned the note several times, but his minion’s messy handwriting was all too clear.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>My lord,</p>
  <p>I wish to prove my loyalty to you by delivering the blood traitor Sirius Black into your merciless hands.</p>
  <p>Please come to the Forbidden Forest at 10:00 this evening, and Black will be waiting for your dark judgment.</p>
  <p>I hope that you will regard this gift from your servant favorably.</p>
  <p>Yours humbly,</p>
  <p>P.</p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A huge thanks to Duinemerwen, who came up with the genius idea to have Snape attempt to convey some life advice through a nice little story of his youth!</p>
<p>Thank you all for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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